















4 . 'V '••* 0> 

. .»-_vV tuo<i =•^'^11:^- •»•..■> 





o V 


V ' 


<f> ' o *, 0 ' ^ 

. *> v' . * * ■> 
%/ ♦• 


• '^rv 

•» A V 'JV • 



; ^0 : 
O <• , , n • aO 

' .v ' 


“ ■<?*«. cT' 



o t Ik 



^ 0^ 


-IV7 w ^^vrs' v^ , 


b V 




^ O H 0 


^ ^ - c:^Z/^// \\^ > ^^l\\v<S^ ^ K.> 

•' S CV „d *'>'‘5^. 

av O * a I ^ * A® <5> * 0 N O 

O’^ .-•.. V ..0^ .vv:.', v^ .••°' 




<-««’ .■?>"■ O^ *‘.,i*’ aO 

■• V . Jl 




4 

. - - - * 

' ."1^ » i«v75??=t* V 

'■ ^“o 

♦ a'^ o 4?* 

^ "* ^ V ' 






*n . k * 




«G 


• C, G vT 

■* 

.0^ \D A <:> 

V « N fl A> ... <* 





. ^ .A /. 

: '^vP « 

♦ ^ > ' 

'.. s‘ A <. 'o,*- 0^ '^. A 

J A^ •«•'•.. '<^ Qr c ° " ® -* -3l^ •'•'*♦ 



"o 


. vPG 
o Av^ * 

♦ ^ ^ 


o > 


•" 

0 





I 




ox THE BATTERY; 


OR, 




% 



NKW YORK : 
1879 . 


ZPR.ICE, CEDNTXS. 









w 

o: 

w 

h 

< 

PQ 



View of Esplanade and Castle Garden, New York, in the early part of the Nineteenth Century. 

(Sec Pages 8, 20). 


N THE pATTERY ; 


OB, 

MILDRED’S DISHES. 


A Story of 

NEW YORK CITY AND OTHER PLACES, 




PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. 

v/ 


TVvh ,0/,£ OctT^ 


NEW YORK : 
1879. 

r 



'W' ■ 


'PZ3 


COPYRIGHT BY 

MKS. A. E. COKEY BALDWIN. O OA/J 

1879 . ' — ^ 


All Rights Reserved. 




Jhis woi^k is very i^spectfully insci^bed 

TO ALL INTEI^STED IN 


DISHES, 


EITHER PLAIN, DECOI^ATED, OR ANYWISE. 


“ Ta-ku-te-yay 




OLD CHINA PUNCH BOWL. 
Two Views. 


BArrERY PLATE. 

Containing View of the Battery and Castle Garden in 
the early part of the Nineteenth Century. 


NARROW-NECK Pri'CIIERS. 
Part of Aunt Syley's China. 


INTERIOR AND EXPERIOR OP OLD CHINA 
PUNCH BOWL. 


EVAPORATING VASE. 


TEMPERANCE JUG. 


ABLE OF 


ONTENTS. 


CHAPTER L 

New York City. — Mildred washing Dishes. — A barrel 
of Flour. — Davy’s History - - 

CHAPTER 11. 

Dorry’s Store. — Finding who sent t!>e Flour. — Journey 
to the Battery. — ’I'he Philopena . . . . 

CHAPTER ILL 

All Hallow E’en Games. — Young Physician goitig to 
New York. — 'I'he Great Physician. — The Yellow 
Fever, and the Letters 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Merchant.— Night by the Woods. — 'I'he Men 
Digging. — Moreland. — Aunt Syley. — William Penn 
and Cortez. — Pocahontas. — Fourth of July - 

CHAPTER V. 

The Old Will and the Old Letter, — Old Benhardt, 
and Davy’s Dream. — Greenfield Inn. — Buster, and 
Bill Pounce. — 'J’he Open-air Preacher 


PAGE. 

1-22 


23-39 


40-57 


58-91 


92-112 


VI 


Jable of jZoNTENTS — Continued. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Tlie Ei^yptiaii Legend, and the Susqueliannah Legend. 
— Banyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. — Spear Ridge. — 
Ancient Pottery. — 'I’he Old Sweating Vase. — ’I’lie 
Arrival at Moreland. — Payment of Pliilopena 

CHAPTER VIL 

'I’he Departure. — Finding the Man. — The Denoue- 
ment. — Potter’s Clay 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Ned’s Story. — Nat with the Bag. — Benhardt’s Letter. 
— Answer to Benhardt’s Letter. — ’I'he Pottery. — 
’I’he Letter of Sir Francis Drake. — Alfy and the 
Fire.— The Contract. — Shrines . - . . 


PAGE. 


113-158 


159-174 


175-208 


CHAPTER L 


New York City. — Mildred washing Dishes. — A barrel of Flour. — 
Davy’s History. 

Ik an old book with a sheep-skin cover may be read : 

It is the first commercial city in America, situated on 
New York Island (formerly called Manhattan Island), 
at the confluence of the Hudson and East Rivers, and 
at the head of a bay about twenty miles from the At- 
lantick Ocean. The length of the island is fifteen miles 
from north to south, by an average breadth of one mile 
and a half. The harbour of New York is excellent, and 
vessels of the largest burthen may come up to the 
wharves on either river. It is unrivalled i,n its loca- 
tion for a commercial city. Regular lines of packet- 
ships are established between this port and Liverpool, 
London, Havre, and other European ports, sailing 
several times in a month. Packets also ply to South 
America, Mexico, and various ports in the United States, 
and several steamboats navigate the waters of the North 
and the East Rivers, and the bay in various directions. 
The city is not well supplied with good water, that in 
the wells in the lower part of the city being brackish. 
There are some good springs on the island, from some 
of which water is taken in carts and sold to many of the 
( 7 ) 


8 


ON THE battery; 


citizens. A portion of the city is supplied from the wells 
near the rear of the City Hall, which is raised by a steam 
engine, and distributed in pipes and logs. The water is, 
however, of an inferior quality. Rain water is generally 
used by the inhabitants for washing, and most of the 
houses have good cisterns. The manufactures of the 
city are very considerable, and the mechanicks comprise 
the largest class of citizens. Broadway is the principal 
street of the city, which is eighty feet wide, extending 
about three miles from north to south, along the centre 
of the island, from which there is a gradual slope to each 
river. It is the most frequented promenade, and may be 
seen crowded in pleasant weather, at all seasons, with 
the gay and fashionable from all parts of the Union, 
strangers and busy citizens. The termination of this 
elegant street, on the south end of the island, is at the 
Battery, one of the most beautiful walks in the world, 
occupying an extent of several acres handsomely laid 
out, and ornamented with trees and shrubbery. It com- 
mands a fine view of the bay and harbour, the island 
and surrounding country. It was formerly the site of a 
fortification or battery, from whence it takes its name. 
It is connected by a bridge with a castle, built on a mole 
in the harbour, which has been converted into a place of 
publick amusement.” 

The scythe of time in its ups and downs, has taken a 
piece from the border of the Battery Plate,, but the pic- 
tures of the people who saw it then are not injured, and 
good Mrs. D — , and the physicians, were busy there one 
memorable summer. 


OK, Mildred’s dishes. 


9 


For the ten thousand nine hundred and fiftieth time 
Mildred had washed the dishes, and had hung up the 
towel which had been vigorously applied to drying them. 
The earthenware shone, free from all marks of meat, 
potatoes, molasses, grease, or anything else that might 
be polished off. And from this unromantic, monoto- 
nous employment, there seemed no escape, unless at meals 
all dipped out of a huge bowl, each with a spoon. ‘^It’s 
the fag end of housekeeping,” thought she, and no mis- 
take.” But Mrs. Morton hi.d a watchword which the 
children had learned, and now it came to mind with a 
bracing effect. It was from that old Book whose words 
have comforted and inspired the lowly, and will continue 
to do so — ‘‘ He that is faithful in that which is least, is 
faithful also in much.” The work she was doing is an 
operation almost destitute of interest, or the exercise of 
taste, only drawing out into activity the homely virtues 
of hold on and patience. There is enterprise in getting 
dinner, in setting out the clean and shining plates and 
cups, and filling them with good things to eat; but 
oh, dear, to clear up the rubbish after the feast is 
over, and to remove all traces of what has been, from 
dish after dish, is tedious, and the veriest hum-drum 
performance. She thought so sometimes, but to-day 
her work seemed, as though without much stretch of 
the imagination, to have something to do with that 
event ’way back in the past — the great clearing up after 
the thousands had feasted from that dinner of the 
lad mentioned in the Gospels, and whether it was a 
poor lad who followed the crowds to traffic in loaves and 


10 


ON THE BATTEEY; 


fishes, when the people were hungry, or whether it was 
the son of Andrew, one of the called of Jesus. She fell to 
musing which it was. If it was the disciple’s son or not, 
how little the person knew that the food would get into 
the hands of Jesus, and make more than twelve thousand 
good, large pieces, and the remains of the feast fill his 
basket twelve times. Here the faithful least became the 
much, from the direct hand of the blessed Saviour. So 
the work took on a beauty all its own. “I’ve done the 
least, which comes the oftenest,” thought she, “and I’ll 
apply mother’s rule always now ; it can never fail.” So, 
at the conclusion of the task, she sat down by the fire to 
munch some apples, which she peeled without breaking 
the skius, and saved them for the rest of the children 
to drop in magic alphabets, which would give them the 
names of those who loved them best. Where are the 
children who never tried this? The family, like all 
others, possessed a share in God’s acre, and some of them 
had gone and left only marks there of “green grass 
turned up with brown.” There were Harry and Meemee, 
called so for short. Mrs. Morton was hopeful, cheerful, 
and one of those persons who have great faith in God» 
She maintained morning and evening family prayer, and 
the children’s part was the petitions, in concert, of that 
wonderful invocation to “ Our Father who art in heaven.” 
Tliat petition “ Give us this day our daily bread ” may 
become a formality, and in some cases, no doubt, it does; 
but, when the need presses us and we have nowhere else 
to go, when cold poverty touches us with its pinching 
fingers, and the heart grows faint with the ghastly pres- 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


11 


sure, and the soul’s cry to God for the body’s supply is 
answered, and relief comes, one appreciates that prayer, 
if never before. They prayed it, sometimes, when the 
shelf was loaded down with good things; and then again 
when the bin was empty, the flour gone, the provision 
for the shelf uncertain. And the bread came! 

They had land which old Benhardt cultivated, and 
Harry helped him. Nan and Benhardt adhered to the 
fortunes of their friends, until Mrs. Morton induced 
Nan to take a place with Alfy’s people, as her family 
was small and she could or would spare her to go to 
them. Harry and Benhardt, when the season was good, 
had flne crops of hay, wheat, potatoes and corn ; and their 
two cows, Mousie and Strawberry, supplied them with 
milk and butter. The season one year was dry, and the 
drought injured the crops, and this reduced their 
income, and in the ensuing winter they were greatly in 
need of just one more barrel of flour. Mrs. M — said 
that all their real wants would be supplied, for the Lord 
provided; they had done what they could and now 
would trust the God who multiplied the little grains of 
meal in the widow’s cruise. And true enough, worse 
did not come upon them. 

In the middle of the winter, when the sleighing 
was good, a man drove up to their house with a barrel 
of flour, marked for Mr. Morton, and asked if he lived 
there. Mrs. M — told him that was her husband’s 
home, but that he was dead now. He said that the 
barrel of flour was sent to him and that was all that he 
knew about it; he insisted that they were the ones 


12 


OK THE battery; 


to^have it. Then Mrs. M — accepted it, as an answer to 
prayer from the source of all good. They talked it 
over and discussed the matter in all its bearings, hut 
could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion as to the 
personality of the donor. And then they fell to work 
to dispatching it. There was beautiful bread for Sunday, 
Monday, and all the other days of the week, and the 
children each had a baking out of it. Old Benhardt 
stopped every once in a while, as he was sawing wood, 
and exclaimed : Mi, mi, I neber see noddings like dis, 
dat is like dat oder brod.’^ Whether he was understood 
or not, he knew what he meant himself. And so that 
barren spot in their life’s journey was refreshed from 
the plenty in another’s lot. It was a long time before 
any clew was found explaining where it came from. 
Mrs. Morton was right in accepting it, they were all 
right in eating and enjoying it, as time divulged that 
they were the ones for whom it was designed. And 
when the petition was raised, after that, it seemed as 
though a living God had invited them to make their 
wants known. And the children’s pleasant companions 
heard of it. There were Dorry Elmendorf, Alfy Has- 
brouck, David Warner, and others. When they met 
together, full of spirits as they were, they had jovial 
times. This did not happen very often, for they went to 
school, and had several industries one way and another, 
which they followed as though their living depended 
upon them. And they were separated by the distance 
between their homes. Alf and his folks lived in 
New York, in the Bowrie. It was a rambling old house. 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


13 


with, as Alfy said, loads of rooms in it, but the nicest of 
all was his mother’s room; but the companions all 
seemed to have the same notion regarding their own 
mansions. There were several of them, brothers and 
sisters, only Alfy and his sister Julia were the life of the 
house ; she was the oldest of all. Alf received frequent 
lectures from all hands about being select with his 
company, but his generous impulses carried him as hale- 
fellow-well-met wherever innocent amusement was to 
be found, whether among broadcloth or fustian. 

While we have been making the acquaintance of the 
others and returned to Mildred, she is eating the last 
apple. Three or four of the comrades have come into 
the room and seized the skins which she has saved for 
them ; and as they dropped them, one after the other, 
it could be seen that they did not trust the oracles alto- 
gether, but by a little turn of the hand made them form 
the letters of those they loved the best themselves. 
They kept on with the magic until the apple-skins were 
all worn out and broken, when the evening hour for 
lighting the lamps had come, and they went to their 
mother’s room. They burned whale-oil and tallow- 
candles, and the wicks of the lamps required to be 
exactly adjusted or they would smoke, and if not high 
enough, they only illumined the darkness. And the 
snuffers for the candles, and the big pin to prick up 
the wicks of the lamps, were ready for the evening’s 
operations. And Harry pricked up the wick of the 
lamp to the proper height, and Mildred snuffed the 
candle, while reading and sewing employed the evening. 


14 


ON THE battery; 


And, to conclude the day, Mrs. M — asked Harry to read 
the parable of the ten virgins. It is probably never 
more impressively interesting than when read by a 
whale-oil lamp — the lamps going out, and the lack or 
abundance of oil, make it all a kind of reality. And* 
when the reading was done, she prayed that they might 
be furnished with a full supply of faith against the 
surprises of the world and the flesh, and to carry them 
safely through this life, which would lead them into the 
presence of the heavenly bridegroom, Jesus. The 
oriental imagery of the parable made even their oil can, 
and the oil in it, an object of interest, an emblem of 
faith, which burns and glows when all around is black 
as night. Mrs. Morton was a fine singer, and Meemee 
generally fell asleep to some of Burns* beautiful songs, 
notably among them, 

“Ye banks and braes, 0 bonny Doon.” 

The children all loved this for the tune was so lovely. 
The distress depicted in the song made them quite mis- 
erable for a time, but, in fact, the next evening they 
wanted to hear it again as much as ever. Who does not 
remember a mother’s singing, when the sounds carry 
one off to the land of dreams, where roses grow without 
thorns, where water runs up hill, and where castles in 
the air have a firm foundation ? 

Davy Warner lived in a snug little cottage with his 
grandmother. His father had worked in the pottery at 
Cobridge, in England. He was a fine, clever man, and in 
his art of semi-sculpture excelled. Some of the ware at 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


15 


his place was decorated with American views, and he 
always said that, some day, he would transfer his labors 
to these shores. But like the chips and hits which he 
threw into his own potter’s field, so he threw himself 
away. He grew to like the effects of alcohol, and its 
use gained upon him so swiftly that he became a drunk- 
ard. His wife tried every way, as wives so often do, to 
stop him in his downward career; she urged him to 
come to this country, and not to wait until his parents 
(who had come here already) should send them word 
that they had found what they thought was just the 
right place for them. She hoped that a change of place 
might save him. They came after a time, but his father 
had died, and his mother, whose heart had been aching 
over the reports of his ways, took them to live with her 
in her pleasant home. He did better for a while, but it 
was only a temporary check, and he fell again into a 
state worse than the first, and, in delirium tremens, 
would try to throw himself out of the windows. If he 
were upstairs, then he would try it there, and being 
prevented there he would run downstairs, and try to 
accomplish his object there, and his poor wife would 
run ahead of him and shut the windows down so as to 
prevent his killing himself in that way. This was the 
deplorable condition of things for some time, and she 
was obliged to come to the conclusion that he would 
succeed in his frenzy, for she could not endure it much 
longer. After one of his worst spells he seemed to get 
a little better and was sober for a while; it was the last 
lucid interval. It was so comforting to have him 


IG 


OK THE battery; 


rational once more, but he died suddenly, like a candle 
snuffed out. 

In the course of a few weeks David was horn. 
He proved to be a sickly child; the unfavorable circum- 
stances had impaired his constitution. But he lived, 
and, as he grew older and could walk around and help 
himself in any way, he would go to the windows and 
try to pull them down, and then close all the doors. 
Hot weather or cold made not the least difference to 
him; and many a risk he ran of tumbling out and 
breaking his neck before they could catch him. He 
had inherited this propensity from the circumstances 
before his birth — his poor mother’s continual efforts to 
keep her drunken husband from throwing himself from 
the windows. He grew up the care and comfort of his 
grandmother, while she was his. The poison of rum 
had impaired his physical condition, and his nerves were 
very sensitive, and he was restless, and always busy about 
something, but with her direction his industry was 
always led into a useful channel. He had talent which 
developed as he grew older. His grandmother used to 
say that it was such a comfort to her that his mind was 
not shattered entirely, and that the window-shutting 
propensity was the only demented tendency which he 
showed. He was passionately fond of painting, and 
liked to work up yellow trying to catch the sunlight, 
like the carpet weaver who wove a ray of sunshine into 
his carpet. 

Mrs. Morton was an artist, and, seeing Davy’s taste, 
she instructed and helped him, but failed, sometimes, 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


17 


on account of his inborn restlessness. And his marsh- 
mallows and morning glories got sadly mixed in conse- 
quence, but after a while they would blaze forth in un- 
accountable colors, as they never grew in the garden. 
But as he grew older he did his work well. His mother 
had not survived his father long, so he became altogether 
the care of his grandmother. Sickness, trouble, and an un- 
settled state of funds coming from property in their old 
home, had exhausted her means, and she found it neces- 
sary, while her son was in such a bad way from drinking, 
to put a small mortgage upon her cottage. Now that he 
was dead, and the worst was over, the industrious old 
lady looked forward to paying it soon, even if they failed 
in getting their remittances again. She was not too 
proud to work, and sewed and knitted for any of her 
friends or neighbors. In the corner of her sitting-room 
she kept the little wheel where she spun the flax and tow 
into thread for the stockings, and everybody came to 
her for their stockings, because they did not require 
darning all the time. Alfy said that his wore like 
ninety. In another corner were the swifts, like an 
open umbrella with the handle stuck into a block of 
wood ; so many whirls of it made a hank of yarn. Davy 
put the wool and the flax yarn upon it, and the children 
sometimes helped him in the fun of whirling it off again 
into nicely rolled balls, 

Davy was becoming a miser. What could it mean ? He 
saved all the money which came into his possession and 
laid it away ; when he was asked if he were saving this 
money to keep him in old age, his reply was: ‘‘David 


18 


OIT THE battery; 


never will grow old.” He had a curious bank in which 
he put it; it was one made by his father at the Cobridge 
pottery, and was in appearance like other jugs, but there 
was no opening in it, and it puzzled everybody at first to 
see into it; but it was double, and in sliding the outside 
one up and down you emptied it. The cottage had a 
sub-cellar, where things were kept from freezing in the 
winter, and down on one side of it the jug fitted nicely, 
and if the house caught fire it was a safe place for the 
jug and the money, so he always kept them there. He 
was employed with books, some carpentry and his paint- 
ing. His grandmother taught him at home, so as he 
could live out of doors as much as possible to grow 
stronger. With the tools he had he made wooden boxes 
with leather hinges ; some of these he sold and some of 
them he gave away. They were generally ornamented 
with flowers, single and double hollyhocks, black, or 
nearly so, garnished in his favorite use of yellow. In 
after years this modified into a style both rich and mel- 
low. The glow in which he reveled, he never gave up. 
Harry’s mother often painted wild violets, moss roses, 
forget-me-nots and carnation pinks on sheets of stiff 
paper for him, and he sold them with his other wares, 
and the proceeds of this traffic were all added to his 
stock of money in his bank, which knew no fluctuations. 
So strange, no one ever questioned him to find out what 
he expected to do with the money. Every one seemed 
to think that he knew, and that that was enough. 

There came a time when it was known. Alfy H — ’a 
father kept a dry-goods store, and had a very large trade. 


OB, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


19 


There was one branch of it which Alfy claimed as his 
own. There was a cistern on the premises into which 
socks, toweling, handkerchiefs, and muslin were put to 
saturate with the water, and then taken out and dried, 
and kept by themselres as the damaged department.” 
The price being a few cents lower induced purchasers, and 
these peculiar goods attracted a class of customers who 
were on the watch for bargains, and if the store had 
large sales and small profit no one could find fault with 
this mode of conducting the business, as long as no one 
was cheated. The customers did not object to the soil, 
as long as soap and water would remove it; they noticed 
that the stains did not seem to be salt-water stains, but 
they washed out as good as new; and if Alfy ever was 
asked if that cistern had plenty of water in it yet, he al- 
ways said that it had, and that he had a great deal of 
trouble with his goods, which labor and trouble were all 
thrown in. So they took the socks, the handkerchiefs, 
towels and muslin so reasonable, and spent the difference 
in the price in their making up. And some of these 
materials even found their way to Mrs. Warner’s needles, 
who always recognized Alfy’s merchandise. He often 
made the observation that while his father and the others 
were haggling over the price of silks, merinoes and rich 
goods, he had the advantage; no one ever took his time 
beating his prices down, for he had saved them the 
trouble. And when they drove up in their buggies and 
farm-wagons, or came on foot, they always expected to 
replenish their stock from the supply kept by Alf, the 
clerk of the damage department. People came to trade 


20 


ON THE BATTERY; 


from the little steamers or sail-vessels, and disembarked 
at the Battery, like the people on the plate, and Alfy 
conducted his business with them, as well as the other 
departments of the store. He was kind and polite to 
every one. The rest of the family sometimes brushed 
up his knowledge of etiquette, for fear it would become 
rusty, and once they asked him did he know that 
the help were probably acquainted with some of those 
rules presumed to govern their employers ? For instance, 
never thanking help for any service rendered, the word 
‘‘thank” being out of the vocabulary used in this kind of 
intercourse. And when pressed as to whether he was 
going to continue doing so, he maintained “ that assist- 
ance, if valuable, should be accepted with ‘ thank you,’ 
whether rendered by fine company or by those in hum- 
ble station. It hurts no one to be civil to patron or de- 
pendent. Nan and Benhardt are old enough to be my 
father and mother, and I am only civil to them, after all.” 
He carried the day, and was a general favorite every- 
where for his suavity and for his urbanity; and his 
biographer can testify to the fact that this agreeable 
character never interfered with his success in life. 

Among the recent arrivals at his house there was a cus- 
tomer who had ridden many miles in his carriage, and 
who was about to purchase a stock of dry-goods, and also 
to attend to the shipping of fiour. He represented large 
estates in Moreland, where they kept several mills run- 
ning, and where were raised large quantities of grain. 
Some of his mother’s property had been in considerable 
litigation, but Mr. Morton had been successful in con- 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


21 


ducting the matter to a happy termination, and this son, 
Mr. Joseph Eolfe, junior, had determined to seek out 
Mr. M — , and personally and verbally express their grati- 
fication for his signal success. After visiting Alfs store, 
and conducting what had eventuated in a trade of his 
goods for theirs, very satisfactorily all round, he started 
on his mission. As he had found it necessary to remain 
near his landing-place for some days, he had formed a 
personal acquaintance with Alf and all the family, and, 
instead of taking an abrupt departure, he said that he 
would see them again before he went home. So he took 
the little steamer and navigated to the home of Mr. 
Morton. It was late, well into the evening, when he 
reached the place. It was a fine, clear night, with that 
favorable condition to getting around in the night season 
— moonlight. The conveyance left him on the bank at 
the extremity of one of the principal streets, and he fol- 
lowed it along to reach the public inn. The quiet 
beauty of the scene stole upon him, and, as the houses 
were remote from each other, he beguiled the tedious- 
ness of the walk with the first song which arose in his 
mind as befitting the place — ‘^The Meeting of the 
Waters 

“ There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, 

As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.” 

The lovely summer night and the beautiful country 
and the song were all of a piece to the listeners, for 
listeners there were. The strong, clear voice died away, 
and the village knew that a stranger was among them. 


22 


OK THE battery; 


Mrs. M — sat by the window enjoying the glorious even- 
ing, reluctant to leave it, when the serenader passed by. 
It was evidently designed for himself alone. He dis- 
appeared in the public house, where refreshment was 
served for man and beast. 


OE, mildeed’s dishes. 


23 


CHAPTEE IL 

Dorry’s Store. — Finding who sent the Flour. — Journey to the 
Battery. — The Philopena. 


COBEIDGE WAEE. 

Dorry Elmendorf used often to bring some news to 
David about the Cobridge vessel with the pottery, when 
he had been down with Benhardt to get some of the 
ware. Davy told Dorry please bring one of those meat 
dishes again, ^‘The Landing of Lafayette” — they were 
the ones which his father liked. And when they were 
brought, Davy would go and sort them over before they 
were sent to customers who had ordered them. But 
Dorry claimed that there was no part of the dish busi- 
ness so nice as the doll dishes. He was always glad 
when there was a demand for them on account of birth- 
day presents and other joyous occasions. But the 
traffic was not restricted to any one variety of earthen- 
ware ; gold band and expensive ware was used some, too. 
Dorry would sort over the things at the store where he 
had some shelves of his own dishes ; some for sale and 
some only to look at. If any one wished to replenish 
their set they always went to him, and he as often re- 
commended that they take a variety, one dish of one 


24 


ON" THE battery; 


color, and another dish of a different color. He had 
yellow bowls with black rims and black figures upon 
them; white bowls, checked with black; India milk- 
pitchers, with pink roses upon them; lemonade-bowls, 
with yellow and blue flowers upon them.; the blue 
Cobridge plates, on the Battery, and the other American 
pictures. 

On the afternoon after the arrival of the stranger in the 
town, as this biographer has set forth, Dorry came with 
the ‘^Landing of Lafayette,” a present to David. And 
the children had all met, by agreement of Harry’s, to hear 
his mother tell of that event, as she was one of some 
young ladies dressed in white who welcomed him in a 
patriotic song upon the occasion of one of his visits to 
this country. They were all getting ready for the enter- 
tainment, meanwhile listening to their acquaintance 
Ellen, who was in the habit of taking them with her in 
mind while she related things possible and things im- 
possible. She never faltered in a romance, but when she 
wished to stop she would use these inelegant terms: 
‘‘His leg bended, and the story’s ended.” She had ag- 
gravated them so many times in this way that they had 
agreed if she did it more than once a week they would 
not speak to her for that length of time; so she was a 
little cautious not to break off in that style very often 
now. 

But this evening they were all in the garden on rustic 
benches, and she said that she was going to tell one story 
for Mildred’s benefit, as she had finished washing the 
dishes. So she commenced: “There was a very nice 


OE, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


25 


family of father, mother and four little boys. The boys 
went to school every day, and were very happy. Their 
kind mother and father were always anticipating their 
wants. They were all less than fourteen years of age. 
Their dear mother was taken sick, and she finally died, 
the neighbors were very kind, and came in and took care 
of the boys and their father, and swept the house, made 
the bread, washed the dishes, and cooked for them until 
they thought that they had done it long enough, 
and the boys and their father must resume their 
heavy load without mother’s help. So their father 
thought that he would do the work himself. Besides 
his employment he had sometimes imagined that house- 
work almost did itself, although he never said as much 
as that. He knew how to make the coffee, so they had 
that and some bread from the store for breakfast the 
day after the neighbors had gone home; he boiled some 
eggs, and had those and some bread for dinner ; they had 
bread and tea for supper. Each time the dishes were 
piled up in a closet, while the other closets were being 
emptied of theirs. He managed to cook some meat after 
a fashion, he just put it into the oven, and it crackled 
and snapped for an hour, and then he took it out and 
they ate it with some potatoes which had baked along- 
side of it. The dished, meanwhile, all the time piling up 
more and more, till there were none left. Then he 
went and got the large wash-boiler, and put it on 
the fire with water in it, and commenced putting the 
dishes into it, until it was all full; then he let them 
boil and boil for an hour. He was just going out to get 


26 


ON THE battery; 


the pounding-barrel to put them in, as he had seen the 
women do when washing clothes, when, all at once, the 
boys came running in, followed by a lady friend, whom 
they had not seen for some time, and she recommended 
him not to finish the performance. Then she took hold 
and rubbed the dishes off in the boiler one by one, and 
wiped them dry and put them nicely back into their 
places again, and stayed with the boys and their papa 
until their aunt, who had been sick, was able to come 
and take charge of things for them.” 

‘‘ Now, Ellen, that is a great big story,” said all the 
children at once. 

“ It is true,” said she, “ for your pa and ma knew 
them well.” 

Oh, Ellen,” said Mildred, you put the pounding- 
barrel to it, I know.” 

Mrs. M — had been a quiet listener, and she said that 

he was a great, strong, gentle, patient man, but from 
his own showing failed in washing the dishes.” 

With the hop-skip-and-jump peculiar to children, 
they dispersed immediately, and found that a tall, 
handsome gentleman had been ushered into the house. 
He addressed Harry as the advance guard, and asked 
for his father, Mr. Morton. 

Was it my father whom you wished to see, sir ? ” 

“ Yes ; I am quite sure that it is your father that I 
wish to see.” 

So Harry told him that he would call his mother. 

When Mrs. Morton came into the room she could 
scarcely see, from the misty dimness of her eyes, but 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


27 


with an effort she controlled her emotion and said, 
“ My dear sir, it is too late to see Mr. Morton now ; he 
died last year.” 

Oh, my dear lady, how sorry I am to have pained you 
so with my ignorance,” said he; “but pardon the 
grief which it has occasioned you. I wished to tender 
the warm thanks of my parents, together with my own, 
to him for his services to us all.” 

She replied : “ How pleased Mr. Morton would have 
been to meet you, you will realize it for yourself.” 

“We sent you a trifle last winter, did you receive it?” 
said he; “it was a barrel of our flour.” 

“We received a barrel of flour from a source which, 
to this day, its sender, and the reason for sending, have 
remained undiscovered and unexplained.” 

“Not having heard of your husband’s decease, father 
and mother planned a surprise to him — to have you all 
try our plantation flour, which grain grew upon our land, 
secured to us by Mr. Morton’s efforts.” 

When he began to speak of her husband’s services to 
his family she was choking with emotion, but in a few 
moments she recovered her composure, and said: “Now, 
I am so glad to be able to tell you that your gift was of 
the greatest help to us. I knew that it was a pro^sion 
of kind Providence when we asked for our daily bread. 
For just then we were like Elijah by the dried-up brook, 
and the raven’s hiding-place for food became his supply.” 
She told him how they were situated at the time ; the dry 
weather, and sickness and hard times all conspired to 
reduce their store, so if he had sent it at any other time 


28 


ON THE battery; 


it would have not been needed as much as then. She 
said that children went to an earthly parent, and so she 
had learned to go to a heavenly one, and had been look- 
ing upon it in that light. 

Said he: “Is that the way you took it?’’ 

“ Oh, yes,” said she, “ how could I have taken it better ?” 

“ Oh, well,” he said, he did not believe in that kind of 
trust, it was too shadowy, and continued, “I do not be- 
lieve anything I cannot understand, as a general rule. 
I think that with people who share your sentiments 
it must be, after all, a sort of last resort, very good 
to fall back upon. I doubt very much the sufficiency of 
faith to provide for us our wants and bring us what we 
need.” 

“ Oh, I agree with you there, we must work for what we 
want ; but when we have done all that it is possible to 
do, cannot we trust then ?” 

“And then, when we have done all we can, and our 
wants are provided for, you would say that our prayer 
was answered?” 

“Yes, if you had been asking for those things.” 

“ I repeat, I am so glad that it was what you liked. 
Did it make good bread ?” 

“ Oh, yes, the sweetest and the best.” 

His pleasure at its reception in such an opportune 
moment, and his interest in such an instance of want 
and supply, he observed, had never been equalled. The 
report from this consignment was really more important, 
then, than all the other consignments of the flour, and 
he felt a sort of impulse to follow out after the others 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


29 


and hear of what they had accomplished; but, dear! 
where would it take him to? The little wandering of 
his thoughts made him look quite serious for a few 
moments. 

But by this time the boys had taken the mental 
quality of their visitor, and, turning to them, he asked 
them if they liked gunning. They assured him that 
they did. Harry liked the excitement of shooting 
upon the wing, at which he excelled. Mr. E — de- 
scribed his home, and very kindly invited them all to 
visit him. Harry was an expert with the gun, and 
his skill had been of the greatest service to the fami- 
ly, as their house was rather lonely in its location. 
One night a man came thumping at the doors, first on 
one side of the house, then upon the other side, demand- 
ing admittance. They called from the window for him 
to go away, which he would not do. They became 
alarmed, and Harry took down his double-barrel gun 
and opened the door, bidding him to withdraw immedi- 
ately. He was too much astonished to disobey, and 
Harry followed behind until he was some distance from 
the house. The man, from fright at sight of the gun in 
determined hands, or whatever other emotion it might 
have been, continued to ejaculate: “Christopher Colum- 
bus! Christopher Columbus! Going to shoot me, are 
you?” “Yes,” said Harry, “if you do not go home in 
short metre.” He was finally frightened away, after 
coming to frighten them. Mr. Kolfe said that tramps 
and stragglers were often dangerous, and it was a good 
thing to be able to defend the house and the people in it. 


30 


oiq* THE battery; 


He invited Harry to come to see him and shoot partridges 
with him. They had all become intensely interested in 
each other, and he mentioned that he was staying in the 
Bowrie at Mr. H — ’s, which was the most agreeable news, 
for they thought, “ Then Alfy knows him, too,’’ which 
proved to be the case. Dorry was going over there with 
old Benhardt the next day, to get a fresh stock of arti- 
cles, so they arranged to take Mr. Kolfe, if agreeable to 
him, with them when they went. He said that it would be 
a great pleasure to go with them instead of going alone. 

Mr. Eolfe having gone away, they consulted upon the 
business outlook for the coming days. Dorry said that 
Mrs. So-and-so, and Miss So-and-so and others had told 
him that they must have their wares replenished, for 
many of their dishes had become crazed; at which ob- 
servation Meemee laughed, and that set them all at it. 
So Dorry showed the memoranda for the purchase, which 
was like this: 

Three dozen crazed platters. 

Five ‘‘ ‘‘ bowls. 

Nine dinner-plates. 

Replace ten broken-handled pitchers, 
two dozen tumblers. 

These were to be beside the packages in straw which 
they usually brought over. To every order, Dorry 
always added a variety of broken sets, which he ex- 
pected to sort over, and give a pretty cup to one, and 
a beauty of a plate to another ; and four or five doll’s 
tea-sets, for the girls. David concluded that he would 
go along so as to see Alfy. 


OK, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


31 


When Mrs. Morton was alone with her children, they 
discussed their visitor and the disclosures which he had 
made ; and they all agreed that he was a splendid man. 
Harry said he made him think of the Sachems smok- 
ing the pipe of peace, only he did not look as sav- 
agerous as they did. And he had a fine head of coal- 
black hair instead of a tuft on top of his head, and his 
countenance was open and pleasant; “ but dear, what 
black eyes ! ” Mrs. M — remarked that they were not 
eyes with the glitter and fire of those worthies, but they 
had a soft expression, what is called a liquid eye. And 
that tuft, to which Harry alluded, upon the top of their 
heads made it very convenient in carrying scalps, so as 
to put them into a bundle with the rest. And then 
they wondered when it would be a good time to go to 
Moreland. Perhaps Alfy had better decide. And Mrs. 
M — suggested that during the harvest-moon was a good 
time to visit, when there was much riding to do, for 
then the days were lengthened out by those splendid 
evenings. If they would refer to their school-books 
they would find that for several days the moon, rising 
just at sunset, prolonged the light, and this occurring in 
the month of September the harvesters in England 
called it their moon, as they could go on with their 
work and get in the crops by moonlight, without any 
period of darkness intervening in the twenty-four hours. 
And that the same circumstance occurred in the month 
of October, and that then it was called the hunter’s 
moon from that reason. So Harry concluded that the 
month of October would be the one to suit them the best. 


32 


ON THE BA.TTEKY; 


for whatever they had on hand to do, they could prolong 
it into the night, like the harvesters and the hunters did. 
And Meemee said, that that would be a good time to 
catch the owls, because you could see them then when 
they scart you. But they deferred it all to Alf. 

Early the next morning, Benhardt harnessed the 
horses to the spring wagon, and Mr. Kolfe having paid 
his respects and adieus to Mrs. Morton, joined the chil- 
dren and went along with them. Benhardt was obliged 
to stop more than once and let them get off and pull 
up calamus, and they ate it until it gave them the 
heart-burn. They had found out that anything that 
was reasonable that they wanted to do, and many things 
that were very ; unreasonable, Benhardt would do for 
them if they only expressed a wish. But at last he 
became quite firm, because he feared that they would 
hurt themselves by eating so much of that fragrant 
root, and he told them that “ if they were going to stop 
and get calamus ebery dime dey passed dem leetle 
marshes, vere any ob it vas, he vould not engage to get 
dem to der destination befor de nex night.” 

Mr. Rolfe had been in a kind of brown study, but 
now, seeing that Benhardt had his hands full with the 
horses and the children, took upon himself to enter- 
tain them some. And he said that he would sing 
them some songs, and they must join in the chorus. 
When he had finished one, they bethought themselves, 
and asked him “ if he were the one who serenaded the 
town with the ‘Vale of Ovoca’the other night.” He 
said that he was, but that he thought the people were 



i 

J 



I 


i 


• « 






0 



INDIA PITCHERS. 

{See, Pages 24, 33). 






% , 





OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


33 


all asleep. Then Davy said that his grandmother heard 
it, the sounds in the night, when the noises of the busy 
town are hushed, are heard so far. David told him 
about his papa, how he had been a manufacturer of the 
articles, like those in which his friends were trafficking, 
and all about his dear old grandmother. Mr. R — said that 
they had some blue dishes, with the word C-o-b-r-i-d-g-e 
(spelling it) upon them ; was it the same as what they 
were talking about ? 

They said, “ The very same.” 

‘‘Well, now,” said he, “when the table is set out 
again, I shall feel quite interested in those dishes. I 
have never looked at them to see what they were like 
before. Mother has gilt-china, like yours, and those 
queer little milk-pitchers with small necks ; if I had to 
wash them I should give up in despair.” 

The hours passed quickly and pleasantly along until 
they came to the inn, and put up the horses; and after 
a while they took the little steamboat and drew up to 
the Battery. There was a vessel with the name “Oo- 
bridge” upon the sail. In a little while they arrived at 
Ally’s, and that boy almost turned somersault upon see- 
ing them, and began to praise Mr. Eolfe as a fine fellow 
for bringing them ; and then Mr. R — said that it was they 
that brought him, and then the rest said that it was a 
business trip, combined with the pleasure of Mr. R — ’s 
company. And, upon this information, Alfy stated that 
there was a plenty of stock from which to select. One 
boat at the wharf liad just come in from Davy’s old 
station; that the store was full of cloth and silks, and 


34 


OK THE BATTEKY; 


that his counter was loaded down. They all took a 
stroll to look at the shipping, while Mr. Rolfe presented 
himself at Alf s for his farewells, as he was going to take 
one of the steamboats late in the afternoon, and get 
ready to start on his ride homeward in the morning. 
They welcomed his return, and were yery much inter- 
ested in hearing of his visit to Harry’s, and the account 
of the flour. Mrs. H — was pleased to hear that her 
friend had traced it to its source. Mr. E — was very 
thoughtful, and said that he never took anything for 
granted, but liked to know the reason for everything — 
which, it must be granted, is sensible ground to hold; 
but he expressed himself as much impressed with this 
coincidence, as it had come in his own experience, and 
not merely from a book. Mrs. H — said that there was 
nothing in this world like the test of experience. Julia 
was kind-hearted, although rather proud, and her sen- 
timent was that a spirited independence was necessary 
in all positions of life. And who shall say that she 
was wrong? She was the oldest of a large family, 
and relieved her mother of much of the work. Her 
grandparents lived on a large farm, at Spear Eidge, where 
the young people went to visit Willy Meeks, and the 
charcoal burning. They kept the Hew York folks sup- 
plied with beef, poultry, butter, and so on. They had a 
cow of their own for fresh milk, and every day she was 
trudged up to the pasture above them. A little pig had 
just been sent down from Spear Eidge to them for a 
baking. Han thought that surely every one must like 
baked little pig, but Alfy was not particularly pleased 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


35 


with the appearance it made upon the table. A messen- 
ger being dispatched for the children, found them at 
Castle Garden, where Dorry was making some good bar- 
gains, and Alf was forwarding the interests of his de- 
partment. They all started to the house, old Benhardt 
bringing up the rear of the procession. They all felt 
very hungry, and were delighted to find dinner 
ready. Alf led the way, and said that he was going to 
prevent their baking any more pig, for it looked so sort 
of forlorn upon the table. 

Mr. R — had been questioning Alf about the manage- 
ment of his business; it was curious, but honest, because 
no false pretensions were made, and also curious, as show- 
ing how he had struck a peculiar line, securing large sales 
and an active trade. But they had all now gathered 
into the old wide hall, with its eight-day clock, its settee 
and chairs, and there was the noise which happy youth 
is capable of making — the buzz, the chatter, the clatter, 
and the general stampede from every quarter of the 
housa The table was well filled, and the blessing was 
asked ; and Mr. H — carved the pig with the easy grace 
which comes of long practise in the dissecting art. It 
is so comfortable to the spectators to watch any one who 
understands how to carve. The head drops off, the legs 
•■and wings follow, the breast sloughs to one side and 
then the other, without once removing the fork, keep- 
ing the poor skeleton in a true position until even that 
loses shape, and a mixed mass of bones and meat, w^hich 
looks as though it never had possessed any relation of 
the parts in fitness to each other. 


3(5 


ox THE battery; 


That is the perfection of the art. But, oh ! the misery 
of the one who has never done it, when called upon sud- 
denly, before a hungry company, and they eagerly watch- 
ing while one makes a sight of one^s self over a poor baked 
bird ! Mrs. H — told them that once, in the absence of 
her parents, when she was young, like them, she called 
upon a youth to carve, and would not listen to his 
protestations that he had never done such a thing in his 
life, and did not know how to do it; but, instead of re- 
lieving him and doing it herself, she thought that it was 
only a little hesitation on his part, and she said that if 
he did not carve, the poultry must stand or lie upon 
the table all day. Upon this ultimatum the desperate 
youth stuck the fork in the side of a duck, and, by a 
dexterous movement, drew the knife down perpendicu- 
larly through it, and then reversed the position and cut 
down once more, and then the duck lay in four quarters 
before them; and, rapidly repeating the operation, they 
were all quartered, and each one was served with a quar- 
ter of a duck. As there were several of the ducks, they 
went around the company. There was at least one good 
feature in his method — no person had to be served twice ; 
the first serving was enough. They all laughed, and 
wondered if he had learned how to do it by this time. 
She remarked that they could judge for themselves, for 
Mr. n — had been that desperate youth. And then 
Julia spoke and said: 

^^Now, pa, we know why you have insisted upon our 
all practising at carving.” 

‘'Yes, my dear,” he replied; “but do not repeat what 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


37 


your mother has just been telling, for it would not be to 
your father’s advantage.” 

They promised not to do so until the next good 
opportunity. 

Then Mr. Eolfe said: ‘^Well, well, it is something 
that I have never done yet, and if I had been in that 
young gentleman’s place the people would not have had 
their dinner with the dispatch he made of the obstacles; 
I should have haggled at them until they were all cold, 
and the guests quite worn out.” 

So they all, every one, enjoyed the noon meal. The 
young folks liked their visitor so well that they began to 
question him when he would be in the city again. Julia 
was waiting upon them with some side dishes, and 
paused to hear the reply. 

cannot repeat my visit as soon as I would like to 
do, but when the excuse of business can be urged, then 
I shall avail myself of the opportunity and improve it, 
if you say so, to come again. But why not make up a 
party and come and visit us ? There’s harvesting, that’s 
a pleasant season; there’s nutting and hunting time; 
then there’s the holidays — why not come then ?” 

The holidays is such a busy season with us here in the 
city,” said Mr. H — that we could scarcely go then.” 

‘‘Well, you must set your own time,” said Mr. Eolfe. 

The young folks were then referred to. 

“Which do you choose?” said Alf and Harry, each 
holding up six fingers. They chose the first finger on 
Harry’s hand, which proved to be the month of October. 
No difficulties apparently being in the way of going 


38 


ON THE battery; 


then, it was the understanding that, if nothing pre- 
vented, they would come then. 

The nuts and the fruit being brought on, philopenas 
were the order of the hour, and seven or eight being 
found, they were disposed among the group — Alfy and 
his neighbor at table, Julia and Mr. E — . Mr. E — was 
going away, but he promised to pay it some day : and his 
veracity was unimpeached so far. A window was open 
upon the street, at the front of the room, and two others 
across the dining-room, which were making quite a 
draught of air, almost too much, Mrs. H — thought, and 
they might take cold. To be on the safe side she touched 
the bell for the waiter to close one of them, when Davy, 
with a very grave face, requested Mrs. H — to allow him 
to close it, and excuse him from the table to do so. She 
signified her willingness for him to do so if he wished, 
but looked somewhat surprised at the singular request. 
Davy had often been at the store, but never met them 
all at the house before. So Mrs. H — had not noticed 
his penchant for shutting doors and windows. Davy 
arose, after receiving her permission, and closed the win- 
dow with alacrity, when Harry said : 

Mrs. H — , you should have Davy to close the doors and 
windows and me to open them, for if there is anything 
inviting in the world, it is an open door, and my mother 
is drilling Davy upon what he knows very well — a text: 
‘Behold, I set before you an open door.’ We are all 
of us trying to break up his whim. Do you think that 
we shall ever succeed?” 

" Oh, yes, I have no doubt you will in time. Davy, 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


39 


my dear, wliat is your idea in shutting everything up 
as you do ?” said she. 

“Oh, it only seems like security — safety; when I see a 
door open I have an impulse to shut it, but more of an 
impulse to shut a window. Grandma has told me that 
I began it when I began to walk. I would like to break 
the habit for the sake of others, because it seems to 
worry them ; that is all.” 

This was novel as well as interesting, and a fact in 
David’s condition of which Mrs. H — had never been in- 
formed before, and it impressed her so much that she 
conversed with him for a few moments upon the subject; 
he evidently being relieved by her sympathy with him in 
this peculiar frenzy. And she comforted him with 
the assurance that she regarded it as an inclination 
which would wear away as he grew older, and that he 
must resist it as much as possible, for it might bring him 
into trouble; and she recommended him, instead of 
yielding to the feeling, to turn and walk away in the 
opposite direction. But the next time that the desire 
to shut the windows came upon him, he must have for- 
gotten her advice, or found himself too circumscribed in 
limits to walk away very far, as we shall see by what 
followed. 

The time for them to separate having now come, they 
accompanied Mr. K — to Castle Garden. He embarked 
on his homeward journey with the understanding that 
as many as could would make him a visit in the autumn. 


40 


OK THE battery; 


CHAPTER HI. 

All Hallow E’en Games. — Tonn" Physician goin2c to New' York. 

— The Great Physician. — The Yellow Fever, and the Letters. 

ALL HALLOW e’EK. 

The old stone house stretched along the road, with a 
wide stoop, level with the ground, having on each side 
of it a wide seat. From these seats the occupants could 
reach into the windows of the parlor or great living 
room on one hand, and into the principal bed-room win- 
dows on the other; while still beyond the parlor the 
kitchen joined. It was a house with many inhabitants, 
and the old knocker upon the door was kept flapping up 
and down to admit the children and the grandchildren, 
and the friends of each, for they called it ‘^’way out of 
town”; and w^hen they came they were in no hurry to 
return. A few steps from the sidew^alk brought the vis- 
itor to a stone slab, a good foundation upon wliich to 
stamp off the mud, preparatory to entering this kitchen 
door; for, somehow, the going in and out was mostly 
through this door. It was only in the summer that the 
front stoop and its inviting seats were frequented. From 
this pleasant kitchen, with its great chimney and its 
fire of logs, its home-spun carpet and wooden-spoke 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


41 


chairs, into the chill air of the lengthening evening, 
stepped the parents, to call upon a neighbor. And then 
the children brought their arms piled full of wood and 
threw it upon the fire; and the blaze mounted up and 
filled the whole room with light and warmth. They 
had been looking forward to this time, and had agreed 
to play some tricks, among which were some fortunes to 
tell; and this evening, so propitious for forecasting the 
future, must not be a lost one. They had concerted a 
plan to corner Lem, the thoughtful student of the group, 
who was going away from them in a few weeks to prac- 
tise his art in the great city. There was something 
between him and Amelia — a bright, hilarious girl, who 
was to join them in their sports this evening — an interest 
in each other, which, at this time, they had not fath- 
omed, and they declared that to let him go away with- 
out their curiosity being gratified to-night, would be to 
throw All Hallow E’en into disrepute. They accord- 
ingly brought in pieces of lead for Amelia to melt, to 
show the implements of the trade of her intended; they 
selected the finest chestnuts, and labeled them ‘‘Lem” 
and “Meel,” ready to be put into the hot ashes to see 
how they would behave. And then, to make the matter 
doubly sure, they informed her through Becky, the 
speaker of the group, that upon the panes of glass on the 
window by the front door would appear the face of hex' 
beloved. Both the objects of their banter received it 
good naturedly, and Lem brought out his mother’s old 
punch bowl from the side-board, and stood it ready for 
the trial upon the table. 


42 


ON’ THE battery; 


said he, ^^who will promise to fulfill the word 
of command which I shall give, hold up hands 

The hands of all the impulsive ones went up, 

‘‘Now,” said he, “promise.” 

“We promise, ‘may he,’” said they. 

“ Oh, no, that will not do,” he replied. 

“What’s the use of spoiling all the fun?” said those 
who had held back. So they raised their hands, too, 
and promised. 

He glanced around the room, and Amelia was one of 
the, “may he’s.” 

“I am going to put a keepsake into that bowl for the 
one who will take it out.” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! what’s that for ? ” screamed some of them ; 
“you better put in one for each of us; why only one?” 

“ Because it will be difficult to get it out; and you 
must take it out with your hand — nothing else will do.” 

When these young persons were left alone to them- 
selves on an evening, they generally enjoyed what they 
designated as a real good training time, and on ordinary 
occasions the systematic arrangements of to-night were 
not observed. But to-night they really felt a little super- 
stitious, and their merriment was of a subdued tone. 
While the pail of water was being brought in to receive 
the hot lead, and everything was getting fixed so as to 
begin, the young man leaned against the fireplace, and 
fell to musing. Where would he be next year this time 
— would he be here, one with them, again ? or would he 
be pursuing the healing art, too busy to come home, 
too anxious to leave the suffering he had begun to re- 


OE, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


43 


lieve? His cheek glowed in the warm light, and the 
fire flamed high, while he resolved that duty should al- 
ways have the first place, as soon as he could find what 
duty was; and a pilgrimage home here was and always 
would be duty. Becky and Tommy had placed the 
chestnuts ‘‘Lem” and “Meel” in the ashes, where they 
were roasting nicely, occasionally turning them over. 
The back log fell apart, and fell into the bed of coals, 
when Tommy whispered, “ Look, Meel ! ” at the same 
time pointing his finger to the window, and saying, 
“There! he’s come! he’s come!” And there, upon the 
window-panes, close pressed upon the glass, appeared a 
form with down -cast face, watching Lem and Meel roast 
in the ashes of the fire. As they all caught sight of the 
image, they shrunk together with alarm, while Lem, 
shocked for the moment, drew down his arm from the 
chimney-piece and passed over, and, opening the door, 
looked out to see to whom the apparition belonged. But 
no one was to be seen either up or down the road. The 
wind moaned through the tall button-ball trees, and one 
of the balls fell down at his feet. He stooped down and 
picked it up, and placed it in his pocket. Before return- 
ing to them again he took the precaution to fasten the 
door, to keep out intruders, if any should appear in more 
tangible form. A sudden thought seemed to strike him, 
and he resumed his place by the fire, in the position 
which he had taken before the appearance; and as he 
stood there now, in the subdued light from the consum- 
ing sticks, a dusky form was shadowed upon the wall — 
that was all. 


44 


OK THE BATTEKY; 


But, oh! what had happened? When the log fell apart^ 
scattering the coals hither and yon, poor Lem, rousting 
there in the ashes, left Amelia’s side, and darted into the 
fire. Eecovering from the confusion occasioned by the 
spectre, they searched for the tongs to haul him out; 
but before they could rescue him, he was burnt to a 
cinder! The young man reached down, and tenderly 
picked Amelia up out of the ashes, and held her in his 
hand. When poor Lem was all gone to a coal, the young 
folks found their voices; and as Lem himself pointed to 
the window and said, ‘‘It was only my shadow thrown 
upon the pane,” they would not be convinced that he 
was right, and that it was not a real person; but they 
still continued to cling to what they thought at first — 
that what they saw had been a veritable passer-by. But 
he told them that it had been caused by the breaking up 
of the back log, and the great outburst of the fiame 
which gleamed, with light and shade, in silvery form 
upon the glass; it could not come again, as the fuel was 
burning now. Turning from this vision, they melted 
the lead to disclose the employment of Amelia’s intended. 
Wlien it was ready in the o-d iron dipper, and the pail 
of cold water to receive it when melted, Tommy claimed, 
and was awarded, the place of oracle, at whose incanta- 
tion the water would give shape to the fiery liquid, and 
mould the coveted implements in miniature form. 
Carefully carrying the shining body, he slowly mut- 
tered, “Water, water, quench fire!” and turned it into 
the pail. As it descended to the bottom of the pail, 
it sissed and spluttered for a few moments, and then, 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


45 


all was still! Tommy passed the pail around, and 
each one of them dipped down and brought out 
one or more of the glittering forms from the pail. 
When they were all taken, they compared notes to see 
what they were, but the similarity of them all was evi- 
dent. They were all spades and shovels — post-hole spade, 
garden-spade and shovel. So they claimed that. he would 
be a farmer, a ditcher, or something like that. An in- 
credulous look flitted across the faces of Amelia and 
others, and now Lem placed the bowl upon the table, and 
read once more the motto in it. It was this: “To 
Sweethearts and Wives.” It had been known to contain 
punch in its day. People had not awakened to the fact 
that alcoholic drinks were better left alone, and social 
parties were seldom without them. 

“Now,” said he, “you know that you must get some- 
thing out of this with your hands, which I shall put in 
there.” Saying which, he placed a gold piece into it, 
and filled the bowl to the brim with boiling water. 
“ Whoever gets this out may have it for a keepsake.” 

“ But why do you wish to scald us ? ” said they all. 

“I think you can recover it without scalding your- 
selves ; will no one try ? ” 

Eveiy one now felt that something must be done, and 
gathered close around ; some stuck in a thumb, and some 
a finger, but quickly drawing back, assured him that if 
he wished to leave them in a par-boiled condition, so as 
to show his skill in curing their burns, he had mistaken 
the temper of his victims altogether ; it was entirely too 
much to expect. 


46 


OiT THE battery; 


“You can do it and not be burned in the least. 
Amelia, will yon try ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh, LemP replied she, “ it will be like your roasting 
in that fire there — I dying by water and you by fire.” 
But after a moment’s refiection her eyes lighted up, and 
she exclaimed : “ I know how to do it now !” Which 
saying, she hastily untied her apron, and wound it 
around her hand and arm, making several thicknesses, 
and then thrust it into the cold water, which had 
formed the spades and shovels, and, when the linen was 
soaked with the cold water, she plunged her hand down 
into the boiling water and drew forth the prize. So it 
was Amelia’s after all. 

Lem looked so pleased, so perfectly delighted, that 
Tommy hurrahed right out, and said : “ Why did you 
let us poke our fingers into hot water and get burned, 
when Meel was waiting all the time to do it ?” 

But she assured them that it was the inspiration of a 
moment. What should she have so many spades and 
shovels for, if she could not get a treasure so handy as 
that was. Lem paced the floor backwards and forwards ; 
he seemed just now overcome with some emotion. And 
the children, in subdued manner, gazed into the fire. 
They knew now all about how Lem and Meel loved each 
other, and for the first time felt that home was about 
to lose one of its noblest, dearest members. And 
Becky burst out with the wail, “ Oh, Lem ! what will 
we do when you are gone? When you go away from us 
there will be no one to take your place !” 

He stooped and took Becky and, Tommy, for they 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


47 


were the little ones, in his arms, and said, “ That’s what is 
making me feel so achy right here ” — laying his hand 
over his heart. ‘‘ What shall your brother do without 
you, though ? ” 

The stage rumbled past, which was so soon to take 
him away. Feet were scoured upon the slab before the 
door. And the father and mother made the old black 
knocker resound through the house as the unwonted 
fastening of the door prevented them from coming in. 

THE GREAT PHYSICIAH. 

Simon Peter’s wife’s mother was sick of a fever. She 
was probably a person in good circumstances. But she 
lay in the house a sufferer. It may be supposed that it 
was a pleasant house, with open court and wide, flat 
roof ; and many of their acquaintances gathered there. 
Her daughter’s husband went fishing upon the lake, on 
the shore of which he spent much of his time. Some of 
her children lived with her, and the worthy companions 
of Simon Peter loved to resort to this quiet home, 
where all ministered to each other’s comfort and hap- 
piness. Perpetua, now, while her mother languished 
upon a bed of pain, did not prevent the usual gather- 
ing of friends, but left them partly to themselves, 
while she devoted her strength to the care of the 
sick. Among their friends who were descending the 
streets of Capernaum, which lay upon the sea, on their 
way to the synagogue, was One of gentle and noble 
mien. He entered the synagogue, and after a while He 
read, from what they were all accustomed to hear, the 


48 


Olf THE batteky; 


Prophet’s words — The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, 
because He hath annointed me to preach the gospel to 
the poor ; He hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted^ 
to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of 
sight to the blind; to set at liberty them that are 
bruised; to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.” 
And then He added : “ This day is this Scripture ful- 
filled in your ears.” 

The words never fell from lips like these before, and 
all eyes were fastened upon Him. These words had 
stood there for the anointed One all through the years. 
Could it he possible that the One now who read was He? 
Oh, what grace, what love shone from that face! Mark 
well the words — not only to bind up the broken limbs, 
hut to bind up the broken-hearted.” Surely that will be 
the Great Physician! But will not the title be appended 
to His name? Can this our townsman be He? they 
asked themselves and one another, as He laid down the 
book. But some of them grew very angry, and proposed 
to hurry Him to the top a hill and hurl Him down. But 
there was a man there full of an evil spirit and violence ; 
all the evil had acquired the ascendency, so that he was 
like one possessed with another being. His free spirit was 
bound, fettered completely. But he recognized the Lib- 
erator of the soul, and cried out, What have we to do 
with thee, thou Jesus of Kazareth ? Art Thou come 
to destroy us? And lie fell down in the midst of them, 
and lay as one slain; but immediately he arose upon 
his feet again unhurt, a delivered soul. 

While the spectators were spreading the story into 




INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR OF OLD CHINA PUNCH BOWL 

{See Pages 41, 4R, 54) 





OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


49 


every place in the country, Jesus went with Simon. 
And some said: “Now, let us see; first of all there is 
Perpetua’s mother. The fever has nearly run its course, 
and the doctor says that she may die. He thinks that 
he cannot save her, for the fever runs higher and higher 
every day. It is an unequal contest, and to-morrow or 
next day the fever will have consumed her life.” See! 
He is go ng with Simon, who is telling Him: “Good 
sir, my wife’s mother is sick with a fever, and we must 
give her up ; she will die. She has heard of you, and has 
made me promise that whatever comes to her, if she is 
borne to the tomb from this bed of pain, you must 
come and stay beneath our roof; she had hoped to min- 
ister to you as her friend, but if she can never do that, 
we must take her place and keep you there.” And Jesus 
answers: “I came to do a work which will not allow 
Me to stay and take up My abode with you ; but when I 
am very worn and sorrowful, I shall come and tarry with 
you a while, and Perpetua’s mother will not. die of this 
fever. She is one who shall attest the truth of the 
prophet’s words; and her hands shall yet minister to us, 
Simon, and to many others, and she shall sing of the 
love of God in human form.” And Simon would have 
run, as though it all depended upon his getting home 
and telling that there was a balm for her, and a Great 
Physician, able to cure. But his impetuosity had not 
carried him many steps, when he thought, “The Great 
Physician, He must go first! What can I do but follow 
where He leads?” He could not restrain his rejoicing 
over the delivered one. The sick and suffering he had 


50 


OK THE battery; 


pitied, bill: could not cure; could do nought for them 
himself. And now here, by his very side, was One 
with all this power in human form. One who could 
give glad tidings to the poor; could heal the broken- 
hearted; give deliverance to the captives; recovering 
of sight to the blind; to set at liberty them that 
are bruised; and to make known that this was the ac- 
ceptable year of the Lord. And Simon felt that no one 
would turn from this wealth of succor, this wealth of 
love. And they journeyed along and entered into the 
house, and there was Andrew, with James and John. 
And they told Him of the sick one, and besought Him, 
if He could, to cure her; ‘Hor,” said Simon, “it is as easy 
for this, the anointed One, to heal the sick as to recover 
sight to the blind.^’ And Jesus went into her room and 
stood by her bed and took her hand. That touch “re- 
buked the fever.” It could go no further, and it left her, 
and she was restored. Oh, with what joy did her 
daughter help her to arise ! But she felt the full, even 
blood coursing through her veins once more, and she 
ministered to them. Her daughter, scarcely believing 
what she saw, conducted her mother to the door. The 
sun was setting, and there were groups of people who 
looked at her mother with delighted smiles, and she 
showed them that she was restored, and then withdrew 
to spread the evening meal. But the crowd continued 
to increase, and Simon said that “all the city was gath- 
ered together at the door.” And Jesus healed them of 
their diseases. 

And now, as He had told Simon before that He could 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


51 


not remain with them, “He arose np a great while 
before day and went into a solitary place, and there 
prayed.” And Simon and they that were with him, 
followed after Him. And when they found Him, they 
said to Him : “ All seek for Thee.” And He said, “ Let 
us go into the towns, for therefore came I forth.” And 
His journey became one grand benediction. The leper 
was cleansed. The palsy was cured. And He called 
others to follow Him and help Him speak to the people, 
while He pursued His work of love for them. He re- 
restored the withered hand. And his mother and 
brethren sought Him. But now He began to teach by 
the seaside; and the man in the tombs, wandering 
among the graves, was tamed, and went to his home, 
and told how great things were done for him. And 
now, Jairus, one of the important men, came to Him, 
and fell at His feet with grief, because his little 
daughter was sick, and, with reverence for His power, 
besought His help. And Jesus went with him. But 
a poor woman, who had spent all the living that she 
had, in vain endeavors to remove disease which had 
tortured her for twelve years, crawled along behind. 
She had probably heard of the touch of His hand to 
Perpefcua’s mother in her fever, and she said, “ Oh, if I 
only touch the clothes He wears, I shall be cured ! ” And 
she came in the crowd behind Him, and touched the 
hem of His garment. And Jesus, knowing that some 
one had drawn with faith upon His power, said : “ Who 
touched My clothes ? ” And his followers replied, what 
a question, in this thronging multitude. But not that 


52 


THE BATTERY*, 


kind of touching; it was a touch of need, with expecta- 
tion of relief. And He looked around at the person 
who had done it. And then she was afraid that she had 
dared to much. But no, she went away in comfort and 
in peace. And now came the sad news that the little 
daughter of Jairus was dead. But He said, ‘^She only 
sleeps.” And when He was come to the house. He took 
her by the hand and said to her, ‘‘Arise!” and she arose. 
She was twelve years old. And with the great thoughtful- 
ness for the comfort of every one. He told them to give 
her something to eat, perhaps to establish her recovery. 
And all through the region, the villages, the cities and 
in the country, they carried the sick in beds to be 
healed, and they were made whole. The deaf and dumb 
regained their lost powers. The blind recovered their 
sight, and Lazarus was raised from the dead. 

Here Lemuel laid down the book, for he had been 
reading. The sick were all around him, and he longed 
for the power that Jesus had to cure disease. “Oh!” 
thought he, “if Jesus would only walk up and down 
these streets, and drive back the plague, how the people 
would rejoice in One mighty to save. But we must go 
out and do what we can in our small way. And, before 
to-morrow, I must write home.” And, as he sat there, 
the sighing of the wind through the willow-trees he 
heard in memory again, and the fragrance from the 
sweet basil, which he had helped Becky and Tommy to 
plant in the lone, silent city, seemed to waft in through 
the open window, and fill the air with its perfume. And 
he took up his pen to write to the living ones at home. 


OK, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


53 


THE LETTERS. 

COURTLANDT STREET, Aug. 1819. 

My Dear Sister : 

I know that you feel anxious to hear from me ; if I do not 
write to you regularly it is not because you all at home are less 
dear to me, or that 1 am forgetful of any of them, but it is because 
I am driven day and night. Somehow, to-day, I want to see you 
all more than ever before. Here, stalwart men, women in bloom- 
ing health, and little children, are dropping on all sides of us, and 
I scarcely know which way to turn to try to save. 'I'he scourge 
extends its bounds daily; this hot, moist weather makes the con- 
ditions favorable for the increase of the fever — it fairly seems to 
come out of the ground! Nothing will check the pestilence and 
save the city but the frost — and that is weeks away; and what a 
liolocaust of victims it will gather before that time comes! The 
infected district, last week, took in our pleasant home here, and 
the authorities advised Mrs. D — to move out of the district, but 
she says, “If I go away, what will you all do for the comforts of 
good food, and the rest so essential that you can take here in your 
accustomed place? Everything is becoming deranged in the lower 
part of the city, and where will you go? You have no time to 
spare in going back and forth beyond the limits. I have no one 
depending upon my living for them in any way; I am alone in the 
world as far as family ties, and will help here till the last.” Al- 
though we could not save Mr. Warner last week, yet Mrs. Warner 
is recovering, and she says she will devote' her spared life “to 
nursing any cases near us ; and with you two M. D.’s, and we two, 
many valuable lives may be saved.” 

' Last evening, to prevent being faint-hearted, we repeated those 
assuring words, “O Lord, thou art our dwelling-place in all gen- 
erations,” and “For we know if our earthly house of this taber- 
nacle be dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens.” So, come death or life, we 


54 


01^ THE battery; 


will not leave this place, for if we did, it would be filled by no one. 
^J’lie morgue-wagon passes tlie door at all liours ; some of tlie 
bodies are being buried up at the “ farm,” which now will be used 
as the city burying-place ; and tlie great haste accompanying all 
the movements at present, will result in losing trace of the 
graves of particular persons, and it will be difficult for surviving 
friends to identify them. If the fever takes us off*, we have agreed 
upon a certain spot, so that our friends can find the graves with- 
out uncertainty. I have given Mrs. Warner your address, and 
when this dreadful season is over, she will seek you out, and 
probably locate near you. Sh*e says that if it were not for her 
son and his family across the water, she would not wish to live a 
moment longer, but to lie down beside her husband. He is buried 
in the grounds near us. When she comes, she will bring my love 
to you all with her, and that dear old bowl of mother’s, with its 
motto, “’I'o Sweethearts and Wives.” 1 brought it with me as a 
talisman against that homesickness which sometimes comes over 
the ronifhest man. We are making lemonade in it now for the 
sick ; it holds so much that we do not have to make it so often 
as we would do if we used a smaller one. You will be prepared 
to cordially receive Mrs. Warner, when you know that she is 
cousin to Caldwell, the Revolutionary hero. She loves our free 
institutions, and says that if she had been here during Colonial 
days, there would have been one more with us feeling like ourselves. 

Mother! father! where are you just now? ’Phis evening did 
you sit under the old button-wood trees? I have one of the last 
year’s balls from them now before me, on the table, while I write. 
And were you thinking of this stricken place, and of your boy? 
'riien let it comfort you to know that, while living here, I have 
tried to make no one the worse, but to help and make them bet- 
ter ; and my passport to that City where the inhabitants never 
say, “ I am sick,” is plainer and clearer to-night than it ever was 
before. 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


65 


I’ve liad to leave my letter; it is two o’clock, and I must lay 
down the quill to get some rest for another day. I hold it still, 
reluctant to lay it away. But I am ready for anything. Good 
night ! good night! There is always a lust letter from every one, 
with that brief and changeless postscript, “ Obit,” written upon 
it by the hand of ’J’ime. Write soon to me. 

Your Loving Son and Brother. 

The writer of this letter was Mrs. Morton’s uncle. 

THE BATTERY, NOV., 1819. 

The frost laid its mantle upon esplanade and fort, 
upon mansion and hut, upon the ground once more, 
the trees and fences. All objects on the streets and in 
the alleyways had the white covering, and the city was 
saved from the plague ; and the people came and went 
again in the business of every day, but that mantle of 
frost was the undisturbed covering upon all that was mor- 
tal of the two physicians and good Mrs. D — , who had 
each cared for the other, and for the stricken ones. 
They had been the means of restoring many to health, 
who would need ministrations of some kind again, per- 
haps; but, for themselves, sighing and sorrow had fled 
forever away. They had lived well, they died well. 

“ He liveth long who liveth well ! ” 

Deceinber, 1819. 

My Dear Friends : 

I shall joyfully accept your invitation to come and live near 
you. I feel very well acquainted with you all from the kind 
j)hysician who devoted his life to the good of this place ; you 
were to him the beginning and the end of everything. He Iqyed 


56 


• OK THE battery; 


his Jiome with a fervor that was contagious, and we all here 
learned to love it, too. Dear Mrs. D — , when her house was taken 
into the dreadful circle, put out the yellow flag, and gave her 
life to the sick. 'I'lie physicians and ourselves had the great 
pleasure of seeing many of our patients recover. Mrs. D — had 
special care for the poor sailors at the wharves, and many of the 
poor fellows were brought from Castle Garden to her house, 
where kind attentions and proper remedies were successful in 
their recovery. Two of them were just from Barbadoes, a father 
and his little son Ned. AVe all despaired of their lives, but, 
under a kind Providence, they were restored to health, and then 
they left us. But the sweet child will always be dear to me. lie 
said, when the time had come to go, “ I want to stay here always 
with you ; but father would die if 1 did not go with him, for he gets 
so lonesome, and I am the only one to cheer him. Maybe, it 
you ever get old and sick, there’ll be some one to take care of 
you and make you well again, to pay you for what you have done 
for father and his little son.” 'I'hey went away, and I may never 
see tlieir faces again. They have taken away some of the bright- 
ness with tliem. There are many messages the doctor gave me 
for you, which I shall give you personally. 

I shall stay here a few months to settle the affairs of Mrs. D — . 
I promised her that if she fell at her post, and I survived, that 1 
would attend to her wishes in all respects, as though she were 
my own sister 'And I may not come to you until the spring. It 
has been a sad beginning for me, a stranger to your shores ; but 
in the dark valley I have found the promised support, or I should 
have sunk in the dreary, painful way. ’I'he doctor came and 
went with tireless energy, never saving himself, excepting the 
few liours for sleep which he tried to get. He and Dr. N — vis- 
ited everywhere ; the fever was more malignant in some places than 
others. 'J'hey endured it very well until near the last of the season, 
but then they wert^ worn out. Dr. N — suffered from heart disease, 


ok; Mildred’s dishes. ' 


57 


and the last case he attended was a man in middle life. He 
went to visit him in the night, while he was feeling quite ill him- 
self, and when the man was more comfortable, he leaned back in 
a chair, and said to the man’s wife, “I have doctored your hus- 
band, now you doctor me ; bring me the camphor.” She brought 
it to him, and he gave a slight sigh, and was gone! I tell you 
about him because he was with Doctor Lemuel so much ; and 
you will have a sad interest in us all here. JMany have gone East, 
North, South and West, who will testify to the fidelity of ex- 
cellent physicians this terrible summer. I sit here sometimes, 
and memory returns to our beautiful old home in Staffordshire. 
It was very pleasant there, and we should likely have ended our 
days in that loved spot, but Mr. Warner designed to locate some 
land in this country, and expected to make a tour of discovery to 
find some varieties of clay for the pottery business, and establisli 
our son on some of the land. I do not know that it will be of inter- 
est to you to hear all about this, but Mr. Warner was enterprising, 
and looked forward to the possibilities here,as well as in our own 
land. He did not live to carry out his plans ; but as I firmly believe 
that nothing good is ever lost, I shall meet that good somewhere. I 
have been hearing from my son’s family; they are looking for- 
ward to coming to America before long. I feel very anxious 
about him. I will tell you why when I meet you. From what 
his wife writes, my heart has grown heavier on his account. I 
like the sound of the cottage, and, from your description, it will 
be just what I want, and if my children come they can occupy it 
with me. 

Hoping to hear from you very soon, 

I am, your loving friend, 

^Iary Warnkr. 

The writer of this letter was Davy’s grandmother. 


58 


oisr THE battery; 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Merchant. — Niglit by the Woods. — 'Phe Men Digging. — 
Moreland. — Aunt Syley. — William Fenn and Cortez. — 
Pocahontas. — Fourth of July. 

THE MERCHANT. 

Old Benhardt had Horry’s purchases conveyed to the 
boat in which they were going, and after farewells 
to the H — ’s they took it and started for home. But 
their progress was rather slow, and they found that they 
could not get home without riding in the night, in con- 
sequence of which they stopped at an inn until the next 
day, where they can be left to their adventures, while 
Mr. Rolfe is looked after again. He tarried all night 
at the public house where, some days before, he had 
left his horse and buggy. And early the next morning 
he started with his pony to retraverse the country. 

The morning was fine, with no dust upon the roads, 
and the ride gave him opportunity for more serious re- 
fiection than usual. What if he had met some con- 
trolling infiuences? It is certain that he had come 
forth to meet a person, and that person had been in the 
unseen world for months, and he had received a mes- 
sage from there. He thought : “ Here am I, Joseph Rolfe, 


OK, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


69 


of sound mind, in a sound body, with nearly everything 
that any reasonable person can wish. And in events 
treading fast upon each other, I see only a series of 
accidents, according to my theory — that is all. But why 
are they not all pleasing ones ? Then take, for instance, 
that flour for needy people. Mrs. Morton believes that 
her intelligence can communicate with the Intelligence 
which governs the world. Well, she may be right. 
What do I know of the laws of mind ? There might be 
such a thing as some one, somewhere, being moved to 
bring relief to the hungry and respond to their wants. 
I give it up.” But for the flrst time in his life, it came 
upon him that a Christian had a thread which others 
missed. And he concluded : Life is uncertain at the best, 
and if they are satisfied let them be so. And, if there is 
such a process as getting into harmony with accidents, 
paradoxical as it appears, that would be a comfortable 
condition, and one would be prepared for anything.” He 
was destined to be haunted by this subject, for one 
thing followed another. And let us hope that what- 
ever preparation he needed for his own future, he made 
it while full of life, of hope, of strength. 

The first night found him at a pleasant town, where he 
remained, and on the ensuing morning he resumed his 
journey. His ride was very pleasant, though so long. 
Carriage riding and horseback riding were the methods 
mostly employed when Joseph Eolfe turned his face to 
Moreland again. The second night he spent in a city, 
after which he proceeded on again, accompanied, by an 
acquaintance. The country had become rather wild, 


60 


ON THE battery; 


and they sometimes drove away from the main road. 
They enjoyed the scenery, argued deliberately, and each 
one thought that he had gained all the points, but if we 
had been there we would have perhaps differed with 
them ; however, no third party troubled them just then, 
when evening brought them near the environs of a 
town and to a piece of woods through which they would 
have to pass. The darkness was coming on, and they 
consulted together whether to push on, to go over to 
the town, or pass the night in the carriage on the out- 
skirts of the wood and wait until day, to go through 
that. They carried firearms, were fearless, and rather 
taken with the notion of spending the night in the car- 
riage. They drove over to a house and fortified them- 
selves with a good supper, and returned. They drew up 
upon a knoll which overlooked the landscape, and yet 
they were hidden by a copse of bushes. And one sug- 
gested that, while he slept the other one should keep 
watch. If they had been required by any one to 
pass the night in this way, they might have had the 
slightest suspicion that it was a hardship and an impo- 
sition. But as long as nobody obliged them to do so, 
and they liked adventure, it did very well. They did 
not seem to think of safety or danger ; only, as the twi- 
light was passing away, they appeared to themselves like 
persons waiting at the portal of a realm, into which 
they dared not plunge. Such a friend and ally is ihe 
daylight, sometimes. But even then they might have 
paused a while. The feeling grew upon them; and 
some lines upon the entrance to American woods 


0R> Mildred’s dishes. 


G1 


coming into memory, Mi\ L — used them as an apos- 
trophe to the woods and the feathered inhabitants, and 
to themselves : 

“ Wliat solemn spirit doth inhabit here! 

What sacred oracle hath here a home? 

Stranj^er forlorn, by fortune hither cast, 

Dar’st thou, the genius brave! — the ancient and the vast?” 

And they concluded that they would, at daylight. As 
the night gathered in blackness, they perceived a covered 
wagon stopping a little way from them ; and then all was 
quiet. They did not move any further, and made no 
sign of life. They now became concerned, and their 
concern increased. Probably that wagon contained high- 
waymen who would, when the night wore on, come over 
and murder them. These were the pleasing reflections 
of Joseph E — and his friend. And now the conviction 
fastened itself upon them that it would have been, oh, 
how much better, to brave the timber, or to have spent 
the night in the town, than to wait here to be attacked. 
They thought of slipping off* softly, but that would only 
invite pursuit. And, as the best thing to do now, they 
waited and watched, with firearms ready to pull the 
triggers at a moment’s intimation of activity in the 
covered wagon. But the silence of the night was only 
broken by nocturnal birds, and they made the woods 
ring with their clamor, their ceaseless cry of “ Who-oo ! 
who-oo!” They endured the suspense; and, in the in- 
terrogations which they heard they joined, themselves. 
In this tiresome period of waiting for something to hap- 
pen, Joseph E — nudged Mr. Lewis, and whispered to 


G2 


OK THE batteky; 


quote more, if lie could think of anything appropricite, 
for he had invoked the evil genius of that region, with- 
out the shade of a doubt. The occupants of the lonely 
carriage, the birds, and even the covered wagon, chorused 
the sounds/‘Who-oo!’^ The ground sloped away to the 
east, and in that direction laid the town. At probably 
a mile removed from their location, there suddenly ap- 
peared a light, which flickered and glimmered, and, as 
they looked, they thought that it proceeded from a win- 
dow, but it seemed to be throwing the rays upon some 
moving flgures; at least the appearance of two persons, 
or two phantoms. And they could not decide whether 
it were the same two g,ll the time, or whether there were 
a number of them. But as they were situated imagi- 
nation seemed to run riot, and they would not have been 
positive that there were not as many as a hundred. Of 
course, in the day there would have not been a flicker- 
ing lantern to multiply objects by its uncertain rays. 
The lights gleamed and flashed, and at last they could 
discern the figures digging into the earth with all their 
might, as though they had no time to lose. And, as they 
threw up the dirt upon one side, the scene would have 
found its counterpart in the work of ghouls among- the 
tombs. But that was no cemetery, and never had been 
upon that land. There was one satisfaction in watching 
them, then, at their work, for, while so employed, they 
were busy, and they in the carriage had nothing to fear 
from their attack upon them. They continued their 
operations for two or three hours without pausing to rest. 
In the midst of this remarkable industry something 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


63 


startled them, and instantly they fled from the spot, ex- 
tinguishing the lights in their precipitate retreat. Mr. 
E — and Mr. L — saw nothing more from that part of 
the compass. All the long hours which they had passed 
already, they had kept one eye upon the dark figures and 
one eye upon the covered wagon. And more than once 
they came to the conclusion that they all belonged to 
one gang, and grasped their weapons closer than ever. 

But there is an end to everything under the sun, and 
this vigil was terminated by the dawning of the day, just 
before which, in that darkest hour preceding the light, 
said Mr. E — ’s friend : “ Thanks to goodness we are safe 

yet. But why haven’t they murdered us ? What can it 
all mean ?” Busy morning broke the shadows of the 
night and piled them in the western sky; gathered up 
the curtains of mist from the valleys and hung them 
over the trees for a little while, before withdrawing them 
to be mended of their rents and tears, and to re-arrange 
them for the hand of evening again. 

And now, in the faint gray light, the occupants of 
both vehicles stretched out their necks to take a sight of 
each other. A fine sun-browned face, set around with 
brown curling hair, appeared peeping out from a flap in 
the side of the covered wagon, and a hearty ‘‘Holloa!” 
proved the face and the voice to belong to no bandit. 

“ Holloa I yourself,” said both of the others together, 
with an aggravated twinge at the wasted energy of the 
night, as it now proved to be. “We have been scared to 
death all night at your covered wagon, not knowing but 
what you were, all of you, highwaymen,” continued they. 


64 


OK THE BATTEKY; 


Said tlie face : “Who are you still almost afraid to 
trust them. 

“We are belated men on the way to our homes, and 
are rejoiced to see daylight once more, alive and safe 
and well.” 

This answer seemed to reassure him, and he jumped 
from the wagon and ran over to shake hands with them, 
and tell of his mortal dread all night as they did not 
speak or hail him, and he feared that every minute would 
be his last; although he made up his mind to sell his 
life dearly. He said that he was alone, but provided with 
one or two pistols, and a shot-gun and rifle. They 
told him they thought that he would do very well. 
They then jumped out of their vehicle and performed 
several antics, before they could persuade themselves 
that their adventures of the night were really termina- 
ting. The wagon man said : “ Of course, fellows, you 

are both hungry; I am, and so, firsb let us take a morsel 
of breakfast” The young man seemed familiar with the 
ground, and went into the woods a short way and brought 
back some clear spring water, built a fire and made 
some coffee. They broiled some partridges and spread 
the food upon a log. Without the formalities incident 
to conventional life, they broke the bread and meat, and 
in imitation of the Eastern style exchanged pieces, 
which was their guarantee of friendship. And while 
eating breakfast, Mr. Lewis said: “Now, I want to know, 
once for all, pray tell us why you are skiting around the 
country after this fashion, liable to lose your life any night 
that such as we might choose to take it, or even such 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


65 


as those gloomy images we saw at work over there?” 
pointing toward the spot. ^‘Did you see the dark 
forms at their digging last night, in that direction ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, I have observed them several nights before, 
and cannot make out what they are doing. I think 
they are looking for something which is difficult to 
find. Between watching them and you last night, that 
is the conclusion which I reached. Well, I do not 
wonder that you inquire why I go back and forth as 
I do. It must appear very strange to you. But some- 
times I have a load of merchandise, which I take 
to Moreland, and bring one back again. I have no 
load at present. When I have one I remain in the 
town for security, but otherwise I camp out here, when 
I am only passing through. What brought me into this 
life at first, was circumstances. I was in poor health, and 
the advice I received from a physician was to live out-of- 
doors, but how to do that here upon the land I did 
not know — I have been upon the sea a great deal. But I 
told him that I was poor and not able to do hard work. 
And he said that he would put me in the way of con- 
veying light articles from the bay, to Greenfield, More- 
land and other places, if I would agree to it. And I gladly 
acquiesced, and now have as much as I can possibly do. 
It is sometimes dangerous, for there is a wooded 
tract to go through, and more or less of camping out 
to be done. And now,” continuing, said he, ‘‘ you, my 
dear sirs, are the first ones who have given mo a serious 
alarm. I have thought more than once. What if I should 
be attacked, and should get the worst of it ? If it is only 


66 


OK THE battery; 


a lifeless body upon tlie road, it will go forth ^ Found, a 
dead peddler!’ but I shall be gone. And there lives no 
person to whom it will matter. And I have a hope 
beyond this life.” While he spoke, his countenance 
lighted up with a joyful expression. The thought simul- 
taneously moved the minds of both his auditors, 
perhaps there is some one, to whom it might matter, 
whether he lived or died. As this narrative pro- 
ceeds, it will disclose the fact whether there was not 
at least one person, who might have read, A peddler 
dead!” in case of his demise under the dismal setting 
he had given it, and would not have known that it 
was the good boy she had loved so well. 

How I do wish Fd had the courage to speak to you 
last night,” said he, ‘^and we could all Have had so com- 
fortable a sleep. Well, well, I am so glad that you 
were not cutthroats or villains.” 

And Mr. Eolfe replied, “If I had only saluted you, as 
we were inclined. I almost felt my voice coming, and 
choked it down again.” 

“With all my joiirneyings back and forth, so far,” said 
the merchant, “I have escaped from ruffians.” 

The ground which they were occupying was high and 
clear from trees, and sloped toward the south, from 
which direction there was a wide view of the country 
bordering the road. The nearest house was about half 
way from them and the town. A cluster of houses 
skirted the extreme verge of the landscape, but one 
house, standing alone among trees and bushes, looked 
so pleasant and homelike, that Joseph E — and his 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


67 


friend wished that they had known that it was so near, 
and they would have gone there and spent the night, 
instead of doing as they did. But the merchant said 
that that house, and the land where the diggers were, 
belonged together, when they concluded that they 
would only have left one scrape to get into another. 
Mr. R — said that, as he had never been in that locality 
before in the evening, perhaps at no other time would 
he have thought of camping out as they had done. 

It was a beautiful day to go on with what was proving 
to be quite an excursion. The clouds of grey had 
grown lighter and lighter, and a rosy burst of sunshine 
had warned them to resume, before the heat became 
oppressive. They watered their horses from the spring 
and jogged along. Before evening Mr. R — expected to 
reach his home. And he invited the merchant to spend 
the next night with him there. His invitation was 
promptly accepted, as the dreary vigils had tended to 
give all the persons concerned in it a sort of claim upon 
the friendship and acquaintance of each other. The 
merchant had evidently practiced some among the 
crockery, for he rinsed and dried the plates with great 
ease and expedition. 

Having packed and replaced the things which were 
deranged, they resumed their conveyances and entered 
the woods. As the sun was getting higher, the shade 
was grateful, and they slipped along with that sort of 
creaky, creaky sound which the wheels and the horses’ 
hoofs make, and through the delicious odors from the trees 
and vegetation. The squirrels chattered, and ran up and 


68 


OK THE battery; 


down, and were lost in the hickorys and the ashes. Oc- 
casionally a flock of partridges made their appearance, 
and some fell victims to their shot-gun. The time pro- 
gressed, and they entertained themselves with what had 
happened to them and what was expected in the future. 
There was nothing so very wonderful in it all as related 
by them. The merchant said that in looking back upon 
his course so far, he had been like a person out at night 
with the lantern which only served to lighten the next 
step, leaving the darkness beyond blacker than ever. So 
this day he had taken the next one, and would get 
through, as the old saw is that ‘^no one ever stuck by 
the way.” He had no brilliant plans for the future. 
Ill health had restricted him on all sides — that is, from 
many so-called pleasures; but, after all, perhaps, he had 
as much real enjoyment as any one. Said he: ^‘My 
father was lost at sea, and I was rescued after much suf- 
fering. And in my lonely youth some people were kind 
to me, and I shall never forget it. And now all I see at 
present is a direct course to Greenfleld and the bay, and 
then face about, and on to Moreland and beyond.” He 
had his favorite books, with which his leisure was agree- 
ably occupied; and when on his jaunts, he gave the 
horses the rein and they selected their own pace. So he 
lived in a sort of world of his own. One of the unpleas- 
ant things was muddy roads, but he never had mired yet. 
They liked his oil-cloth suit, which protected him from 
the weather; it was something like the suits worn on 
the “Maid of the Mist,” the boat which used, years after 
these occurrences related here, to go up close under the 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


69 


spray of Niagara Falls ; and one felt as he had been 
taken by the storm-king to the treasures of spray, that 
measureless quantity which, always scattering, is never 
emptied out. This important person, at least of conse- 
quence to this narrative, said that he was ready for what- 
ever years might develop — a very proper state of mind 
in which to be. And they did develop something for 
him ; they will develop something for every one of us, 
pleasurable or painful, and either one of which we must 
take. From our own choosing, we sometimes do the 
very thing which it would have been better not to do. 
And so he was on a solid basis. They concluded that he 
was sensible. Now he paused and remarked: am 

here monopolizing all the conversation and your atten- 
tion ; why do you not tell me about yourselves ?” 

Well,” said Joseph Eolfe, “I thinh; that if a person is 
honorable and perfectly correct in life, he will get along 
well enough. The future is all speculation ; nobody knows 
anything about it. Do well what we have to do every 
day, and let the future take care of itself. That is my 
theory and practice.” 

Mr. Lewis said that he thought that God was good, 
and human beings should be so, too. 

They had conversed upon religion, and it had a sobering 
effect, bringing the unseen near. And gradually they 
subsided into the channels of thought naturally pro- 
duced by the circumstances of the last few days, Mr. 
L — dropped into a muse upon the merits and demerits 
of business matters ; Mr. E — took a nap and let his 
friend drive ; and the merchant resigned the reins and 


70 


ON THE battery; 


the horses went as they chose, until the road neared a 
lively stream, whose murmur only increased the drowsi- 
ness of the party. But soon the animals, feeling thirsty, 
proceeded to help themselves, and, by their divergence 
from their calling, which was pulling the vehicles 
around, it aroused their sleepy masters. They were now 
coming to the open country, and some bills upon the 
trees attracted their attention. They announced that the 
remarkable open-air preacher, Lorenzo Dow, would speak 
upon a certain day. And these men were glad that they 
would have an opportunity to hear him again. 

And now they came in sight of the town where Mr. R — 
lived. It was a fine old town, and the country all 
around it was laid in large plantations. His dwelling 
was a fine mansion, upon an eminence, with a long 
avenue leading up to the house. It was surrounded by 
piazzas with columns. The merchant had often seen it, 
but without the least suspicion that he ever should make 
the acquaintance of one of the members of the family in 
such a singular manner as he had done. The Newfound- 
land dogs were the first to greet them. They looked 
suspiciously at the merchant, but, seeing that their mas- 
ter was sociable with him, they determined to not be 
outdone, and licked his hands, which signified that they 
liked him. This was a country in which the inhab- 
itants when astir were mostly on horseback, and they 
put up at houses notable for their hospitality. And in 
these stables there were ten horses, belonging to as many 
riders : each saddle marked with chalk to designate them 
for their owners. They were going to Congress, to the 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


71 


legislature, or other public meetings, sometimes, and 
this was the most convenient mode of getting around. 
So the horsemen and their saddle-hags passed through 
from remote places to their destination. 

And now the merchant was received with the same 
open welcome, only, from the recital of the circum- 
stances of their meeting, the apprehensions and their 
happy dispersion, a kind of romance was thrown around 
the party and around him. Joseph’s mother was a dig- 
nified lady, with all the grace which good-breeding im- 
parts. J. K — was her youngest son, and the only living 
one. She had looked forward to his becoming a worthy 
and valuable member of society ; and he had done so. 
Mr. L — was no stranger, and she devoted her attentions 
to the merchant, with whom she seemed much pleased. 
Mr. K — , senior, and the three daughters now made their 
appearance, and, to the great surprise of all, they found 
that he and the merchant were acquainted. They had 
met in an adjoining town. Mrs. Eolfe had modeled her 
household upon the same principles as her own old home 
had been. There was the same liberality and hospitality. 
And all the members of the family were made to under- 
stand that home was the place for everything that was 
pleasant. For amusements and everything that was agree- 
able, they must make home the headquarters. And the 
young folks always expected their parents to unite with 
them in all their pleasures, if they cared to do so. 

There was an old personage who had lived with the par- 
ents of Mrs. Eolfe long before her time, and when Miss 
Lizzy, her own child, went to a new home, this individual, 


72 


ON THE battery; 


old Aunt Syley, went with her to Moreland. It was not a 
new place to her, for she had lived in that house before; 
so it was only coming back. She was the same careful 
old nurse, although a century old. She helped some, with 
the work, although she need not have done it. She had 
a notion that she could polish the china and the silver, 
if anything, better than “ them young girls could do it.” 
And she had her own way about it. The day after the 
arrival of these guests they were expecting to prepare for 
the Fourth of July. It was to be a general celebration, 
with a sort of barbecue — a roast ox and all the adjuncts. 
At sapper time the guests assembled where there were 
piles of everything good to eat. There were venison, 
chickens, smoked-fish, maple-sugar, honey, corn-bread, 
and so on. Among the horsemen who had stopped for 
the night, and were going on again in the morning. 
Aunt Syley recognized three of her boys, whom she had 
watched as they were growing up to manhood. They 
were all brilliant talkers, and, to her satisfaction, were 
on the right side, as she thought, in every discussion. 
And as they came and seated themselves at table with 
the other guests, she ejaculated: ‘^Bress de Lord! While 
Massa Will, Massa John an’ Massa Asa is stirring thro’ 
de country, de chillen ob Ham an’ Canian will git thro’ 
de wilderness some time or oder. Clear de track fur 
’um.” She was a veritable person, and lived and died — 
born a slave, and continuing one, until, in her old age, 
when manumission made her free. She never saw the 
day of our good, kind President Lincoln, who with his 
pen set a race free, and sealed it with his own blood. If 


OE, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


73 


she had, she would have been powerless to express her- 
self, and have sat as one dumb. Her .mother was an 
Indian, and her father an African, a fine, intelligent 
man, but in the thrall of slavery. She possessed the 
taciturnity of her mother’s people, with the volubility of 
her fathei-’s, and it gave her both moods. And when 
she was in the reticent mood, she soliloquized, seemingly 
unconscious that there were listeners; and sometimes it 
was in a whisper. She said many things about the 
future ; she seemed to feel that something was coming, 
but not saying exactly what. It is probable that she wished 
and prayed for liberty through the land, and grew to ex- 
pect it in the Lord’s own good time — as a white lady had 
said it would be. She must have caught the shadow of 
coming events. One so old becomes almost endued with a 
prophetic spirit, and her friends always wanted to hear 
what she said. Sometimes they did, again they did not. 
Her mother was one of the six-toed Indians, and when 
she was quite young, those who owned her amputated 
the sixth toe, so that she could wear shoes like other 
children. Her eyes were brown, crossed with a streak of 
white. She had the wild spirit of the aboriginals in two 
hemispheres, but it was softened and subdued by a docile 
and affectionate temper; and, altogether, she was a re- 
markable person. Among the excitements of the times, 
she was often appealed to as the umpire, and, with the 
keen penetration of her kind she would pick a way out 
of the difficulties, like a Brave following the trail. Massa 
Joseph she always placed first, as so learned and superior 
to every one else. And, after that evening, when she had 


74 


ON" THE battery; 


heard the merchant’s story, she said ‘^dat he was a fus’ 
rate young gentleman, wid de good shadows a pin tin’ 
an’ a mixin’ up all over him; an’ de good Lord hah his 
eye upon dat pooh, wandering wagoneer gentleman.” 
But at the supper she was absorbed with the children 
getting through the wilderness, as she called their bon- 
dage; this was her daily burden. And she continued: 
“ Can it be dey’s had all dis trouble because dey didn’t cry 
when de angels wept ? De chillen of Shem and Japeth 
laugh ebery day when de angels weep, an’ nobody eber 
puts de yoke upon dar necks. But hasn’t dey shed de 
salt tears since den? Massa Joe says: ^Aunt Syley, 
tears is nofing but chlo-ride ob so-de-um an’ water.’ An’ 
he’s studied ’bout dat wid dry eyes; he knows what he’s 
talkin’ ’bout. Dar want no obfuscation ’bout dat. Dat 
must be what de Angel ob Sorrow mixes dem wid. But 
de good an’ mournful Jeremiah knowed what he was 
talkin’ ’bout, too, feelin’ so bad ’bout his people, wen he 
says, says he: 

‘“Oil, dat mine head were waters, 

An’ my eyes were flowin’ Countains, 

Yieldin’ fresh supplies; 

Den would I de mighty floods release, 

An’ weep a delude for de human race.’” 

Theii, taking an observation of the table again, “Now, 
jes see,” said she, “ dars dem little girls ” — this is what she 
called the young women — “ a listenin’ to all de great tings 
goin’ on in de Ian’, an’ dey has’nt eaten der supper yet, 
pooh deahs. Ole Syley must han’ dem de dried veni- 
son.” She knew what they liked and sought to divert 


OE, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


75 


them. She handed the plate to each in turn, and they 
requested her to sit down and not fatigue herself by 
waiting upon them. This engaged the attention, and 
they were requested to not be so silent, but to express 
their views regarding the topics of the times. Being 
thus appealed to, they said that they had some observa- 
tions to make. 

One was, said Lucy, the youngest, that ‘^Mr. Will 
and his opponent, are no nearer being convinced by each 
other, than if they were both holding out for a wager.” 

“ Upon my word,” said Will, ‘Hhat is just what we are 
doing ; we have agreed to talk each other down, and your 
brother Joe holds the stakes. I, for my part, am not 
tired, but propose to take a recess for the remainder of 
the supper time.” 

Then said Helen, ‘^Dr. John is eating altogether too 
fast for his health ; it is said, ‘As a person eats, so he 
works.’ ” 

“ Oh, I beg pardon, and thank you kindly; itis a fool- 
ish habit I am getting into. The profession requires 
deliberation as well as expedition. If I should prescribe 
remedies as rapidly as I am prescribing my supper, 
there would not be patients enough in my district to 
keep me busy. By the by, I am going to a southern city, 
perhaps, and if I so conclude, will go in the autumn. 
To-morrow, I shall be one of those three horsemen 
who make so many journeys on paper, but I shall be 
continuing my trips through the Northern States, 
and would you object if the horseman stopped here 
again on the return ? ” 


76 


ON THE battery; 


How can you ask that question ? Come by all means.” 

Mr. Kolfe, senior, sometimes engaged in conversation 
with his nearest guest, and if the person proved to he at 
all brilliant, he would let the others entertain them- 
selves — a thoughtless habit, from which he was occa- 
sionally recalled. In consequence of which, his wife 
was frequently in dilemmas from the conflicting views, 
and she had some practice in smoothing down rough- 
ness, which arose from taking opposite sides on the daily 
topics and excitements of the time; and in gracious 
ways, keeping antagonisms from going too far, and the 
results being, that the guests were mutually benefited, 
and carried away the most pleasing recollections of the 
intercourse among them, and interested to hear of each 
other again — there being always something to remem- 
ber of each one when widely separated, perhaps to never 
meet again. And when they dispersed, the merchant re- 
suming his lonely rides, his thoughts were busy with the 
men of saddle-bags. And they, in leaving, did not forget 
him. And when a covered wagon hove in sight, they 
looked into it as it passed to see if he were there. Upon 
Mr. R — ’s right was one man belonging to a party of sur- 
veyors who were laying out a great line to run through 
the States, and which, it was hoped, would adjust mat- 
ters between slavery and freedom. There would be two 
sides then, and each could keep their side. But things 
were too much mixed for an air line to keep things 
straight. Mrs R — remarked that it was a gain, for free- 
dom, for it extinguished slavery on one side of it, and in 
time the line might be pushed down to the Gulf of 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


77 


Mexico ; when one of the guests exclaimed, with great 
vehemence, “No, not in our day. I think it won’t 
amount to much, either way. It will do to expend 
superfluous eloquence upon. We’ll have our way to the 
end, line or no line.” And he continued ; “ How can we 
afibrd to lose our property?” And as the waters were 
likely to become turbulent, Mrs. K — observed that for 
one portion of the States to pauperize the other would 
be a disadvantage mutually. 

Aunt Syley — as her biographer must keep sight of her 
— ^had now gone over to a remote part of the room, and left 
the serving to be done by others, while she did some more of 
that waiting, which after all is the severest service, waiting 
for the darkness to roll away.. And this is what she said, 
“ Oh, Massa Mason, Massa Dixon, you can fix ’em, an’ fix 
’em, but de Angel ob Sorrow ’ill pay no ’tention to dat line 
you’s a settin’. It ’ill only keep de chillen in de wilder- 
ness. Der ’ill be dat line to keep ’um back, where dey 
can’t git out — de oder side dey ’ll be de fugitive, ’an wen 
dey looks up to dat bright norf star a shinin’ dere, an’ 
dey runs to git to it, dey ’ill trip ober dat line, for ebery 
body ’ill bring ’um back, an’ dey ’ill git no furder. Oh, 
de chillen ob Shem, Ham, an’ Japeth ’ill all trip ober 
dat line togeder, wen ole Aunt Syley’s bones lies away in 
de groun’. Den de Angel ob Sorrow ’ill ’bliterate dat 
line.” 

The speaker, whose fiery temper threatened an ex- 
plosion, had been diverted, and proved to be quite in- 
teresting on other topics. The standing arrangement 
with the family was that in case of any one proving to 


78 


ON THE battery; 


be touchy on one subject, they be relieved by another 
one. And this was the only plan to make surroundings 
agreeable while together as guests. But on the streets, 
if any of the parties met them, the family would have it 
out with them. 

The supper over, all dispersed for the night. As 
Joseph and his mother lingered to talk to each other 
after the others had left the room, and Aunt Syley was 
nodding in the corner, he said to his mother : “ Mother, 
do you think a young lady would refuse to marry a man 
because she did not like his great-great-great grand- 
mother 

^‘Well, really, my son,” she replied, ^‘Ido not perceive 
how that ancient lady could harm her, unless she had 
eaten of very indigestible food for her supper.” But, as 
she looked at him closely, she observed that an unusual 
seriousness was upon him, and immediately made an- 
swer: “My son, the proper course would be for a young 
man to tell the young woman who his ancestor was, and 
if she were very particular in tracing pedigree, she would 
have an opportunity to make that objection. But I think 
that it would be going back a good ways for objections.” 

“Well, perhaps it would,” said he. 

And then he kissed her for good-night and retired 
from the room. And Mrs. Rolfe passed into a fit of 
abstraction so deep that she did not notice Aunt Syley 
leave the room, muttering: His great-great-great 

grandma! was a princess lady ! Nobody could do 
’nough for her. Wonder who her great-great-great 
grandma was ? Like as not some pooh white trash.” 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


79 


Oh, no, Aunt Syley ; you are wrong for once. Aunt 
Syley’s comments seem quite incomprehensible But 
she knew what she was talking about very well; she 
had taken in the situation at once. But she to whom 
you allude, old aunty, had the homage of hearts under 
grand covering, and she would have had the homage 
of your true heart. Aunt Syley was touched for her 
favorite, Massa Joe. She went out into the moonlight 
upon the piazza, and sat down, leaning her head upon 
the column, and softly sung: 

“III de beauty ob de lily Christ was born across de sea, 

Wid a glory in His bosom dat transfigures you an’ me, 

As He died to make men lioly, let us die to make dem free.” 

She closed her eyes, and Pompey seemed to come and 
sit beside her and take her hand in his, and say again: 
“ Syley, Ps free ! ” He loved his noble master, and when 
he was dying. Pomp said to him : “ Massa, Misses shall 
be my particular care ; no one shall trouble her if I can 
help it.” And when the stilled form of his master laid 
with his martial cloak thrown over it, and Pompey’s 
Misses found that she could carry out the last wish of 
his master, which was that Pomp and his companions 
should be free upon her death, she summoned them all 
before her, and said to them: “When the great roll is 
called for me, and I must answer to my name and follow 
your master, and you all begin to be glad — for then you 
will be free, because I cannot keep you any longer — do 
you think that I could endure that ? Oh, no.” Beginning 
with Pompey they all came and stood before her, and she 
said, “ This moment you are free ; there are your deeds for 


80 


ON THE BATTERY; 


yourselves.” And as the invisible shackles dropped away, 
the bondage of their loving hearts was stronger than ever. 
And though they knew that they could go away, they 
stayed by her, and when the roll was called for her^ 
many of their names had been marked off already. 

As Martha Washington and her friends swept down 
the avenue, before Aunt Syley and the last pickaninny 
disappeared, Pompey vanished with them; and, with 
outstretched arms, she tried to reach the ones he carried 
in his bosom. But there was nothing there but the 
bushes down the path, all quivering in that indescribable 
black-gray-green, which is never seen anywhere but in 
the full moonlight. Her heart stood still a moment, 
then gave two or three great throbs; but it had long 
beaten for others. And hearing the girls somewhere 
talking about the Fourth of July she joined them, to help 
if they wished her services. 

The merchant was up betimes in the morning, and 
he went among the books in the library; which con- 
tained works to suit every one. He selected a book, 
and, holding it in his hand, sauntered through the room 
to examine the pictures. There were many of them his- 
torical, and arranged upon the walls in the sequence of 
their occurrence — from the event of the discovery of 
America to the last purchase of Louisiana from France. 
He paused before a painting of William Penn address- 
ing Fernando Cortez, and, being familiar with the 
piece, repeated it aloud : 

‘‘Friend, I pretend to no glory; far be it from me to 
glory. But this I say, that I was instrumental in 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


81 


executing a more glorious work than that performed 
by thee — incomparably more glorious. 

‘^Thou sayest: ‘Is it possible, William Penn, that 
thou shouldst seriously compare thy glory with mine ? 
The planter of a small colony in North America presume 
to yie with the great conqueror of the great Mexican 
Empire! Dost thou not know, Williani Penn, that with 
less than six hundred Spanish foot, eighteen horse and 
a few small pieces of cannon, I fought and defeated in- 
numerable armies of very brave men, dethroned an 
emperor, who excelled all his countrymen in the science 
of war as much as they excelled the rest of the West 
Indian nations ? That I made him my prisoner in his 
own capital; and, after he had been deposed and slain 
by his subjects, vanquished and took Guatimozin, his 
successor, and accomplished my conquest of the whole 
Mexican Empire, which I loyally annexed to the Span- 
ish crown? Dost thou not know that in doing these 
wonderful acts I showed as much courage as Alexander 
the Great and as much prudence as Caesar?’ 

“ I know very well that thou wast as fierce as a lion, 
and as a subtle as a serpent. The prince of darkness 
may, perhaps, place thee as high upon his black list of 
heroes as Alexander or Caesar. It is not my business to 
interfere with him in settling thy rank. But hark, 
thee, friend Cortez! What right hadst thou, or had the 
king of Spain himself, to the Mexican Empire — an- 
swer me that, if thou canst ? Suppose the high-priest 
of Mexico had taken it into his head to give Spain to 
Montezuma; would his right have been good? 


82 


02^ THE BATTEKY; 


“Thou sayest: ‘These are questions of casuistry, 
which it is not the business of a soldier to decide/ 
Thou leavest that to gownsmen. 

“ ‘ And pray, Mr. Penn, what right hadst thou to the 
colony thou settled?’ 

“An honest right of fair purchase. We gave the 
native Indians a variety of articles which they wanted ; 
and they, in return, gave us lands which they did not 
want. All was amicably agreed on : and not a drop of 
blood shed to stain our acquisition. 

“ Then again thou sayest : ‘ I am afraid there was a little 
fraud in the purchase. Thy followers, William Penn, 
are said to think that cheating in a quiet and sober 
way is no moral sin/ 

“ The righteous are always calumniated by the 
wicked. But it was a sight which an angel might con- 
template with delight, to behold the colony which I 
settled ! To see us living with the Indians like innocent 
lambs, and taming the ferocity of their manners by the 
gentleness of ours ! To see the whole country' which 
before was an uncultivated wilderness, rendered as fair 
and as fertile as the Garden of Eden! Oh, Fernando 
Cortez! Fernando Cortez! Didst thou leave the great 
Mexican Empire in that state? No! thou didst turn 
those delightful and populous regions into a desert, a 
desert flooded with blood ! Dost thou not remember 
that most infernal scene, when the noble Emperor 
Guatimozin was stretched out by thy soldiers upon hot 
burning coals, to make him disclose into what part of 
the lake of Mexico he had thrown the royal treasures ? 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


83 


Are not his groans ever sounding in the ears of thy con- 
science ? Do they not rend thy hard heart, and strike 
thee with more horror than the yells of the furies. 
Thou wast the captain of that band of robbers, who did 
this horrid deed. The advantage they had drawn from 
thy counsels and conduct enabled them to commit it ; 
and thy skill saved them afterwards from the vengeance 
which was due to so enormous a crime. It boots thee 
not to say thou wast not there, when that direful act 
was done. The enraged Mexicans would have properly 
punished them for it, if they had not had thee for their 
general, thou hard-hearted, blood-thirsty wretch. 

‘‘ Thou continuest : ‘ How dost thou hope to preserve 
this admirable colony. Thy people live like innocent 
lambs. Are there no wolves in America to devour 
those lambs? Will the natives always continue in 
peace with thy successors? Or, if they should make 
war, dost thou expect to oppose them by prayers and 
presents ? If this be thy policy, thy devoted colony 
will soon become an easy prey to the savages of the 
wilderness.’ 

We leave that to the wise Disposer of events, who 
governs all nations at His will. If we conduct ourselves 
with strict justice towards the Indians, He will doubtless 
defend us against all their invasions. Thou hast not 
done yet! 

‘‘‘Is this the wisdom of a great legislator! I have 
heard some of thy countrymen compare thee to 
Solon. Did Solon, think you, give laws to a people, and 
leave those laws and that people to the mercy of every 


84 


OJT THE battery; 


invader? The first business of a legislature is to pro- 
vide a military strength which may defend the whole 
system. The world, William Penn, is a land of robbers. 
Any state or commonwealth erected therein, must be 
well fenced and secured by good military institutions ; 
or, the happier it is in all other respects, the greater 
will be its danger, the more speedy its destruction. Your 
plan of government must be changed; these Indian na- 
tions must be extirpated, or thy glory will be lost.' 

Thy suggestions are of human wisdom. The doc- 
trines I held were inspired. They came from above. 
How can any folly come from the Fountain of Wisdom ? 

‘“Whatever is inconsistent with the great laws of 
nature cannot be the effects of inspiration. Self-defense 
is as necessary to nations as to men. And shall indi- 
viduals have a right which nations have not ? True re- 
ligion, William Penn, is never inconsistent with reason 
and the great laws of nature.' 

“ Though what thou sayest should be true, it does not 
come well from thy mouth. A tyrant talk of reason ! 
Go to the Inquisition and tell them of reason and the 
great laws of nature. They will broil thee as thy soldiers 
broiled the unhappy Guatimozin. Why dost thou turn 
pale? Is it the name of the Inquisition , or the name of 
Guatemozin, wdiich troubles and affrights thee ? Oh, 
wretched man! I wonder not that thou dost tremble 
and shake when thou thinkest of the many murders thou 
hast committed, the many thousands of those innocent 
Indians thou hast butchered without an accusation of a 
crime! Kemember there is a day coming when thou 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


85 


must answer for all thy barbarities ! What wouldst thou 
give to part with the renown of thy conquests and to 
have a conscience as pure and undisturbed as mine? 

‘‘‘Oh, William Penn! thou art non-combatant, but 
thy words pierce like daggers.’ ” 

Joseph R — and his sisters had entered the library un- 
perceived by the merchant, and were going to applaud at 
the close of the dialogue, but there was a kind of spell upon 
them, and neither one of them began it, but maintained 
that immobility which we assume when we are rather 
disconcerted. And the merchant moved along to the oil 
painting next to Penn. It was a beautiful picture of 
Pocahontas. He knew that she was among the ances- 
tors of some of the best Virginia families. And as he 
gazed it fascinated him, and he seemed rooted to the 
spot, for he tried to leave it and came back. The beauty 
of the Indian maiden grew upon him as he looked at her, 
and at last it seemed as though she womd step down out of 
the canvas and join the admiring gaze, and look up, too, 
at that frame to see what it all meant. In going back- 
wards to get a more remote view of it, he noticed for the 
first time that it occupied a sort of central position, from 
which the others all diverged. And in taking another 
step softly he found himself upon the toes of somebody. 

“Well,” said Joseph R — (it was he upon whom he was 
treading), ‘‘ here we are as still as mice, when we have 
been meaning to applaud your recitation, but instead 
have quietly awaited the inevitable turning around, 
when you would be tired of that picture.” 

“ Had it not been for my stepping upon you, you would 


86 


ON THE battery; 


have had a tedious process waiting for the turning. 
The painter excels in depicting human beauty. I never 
saw such ideal beauty in the Indian face before ; the 
picture is one to he valued from that score in my im- 
pression of it. In that aboriginal race of fierce and 
treacherous character, the artist has eliminated those 
expressions and substituted the expression of force and 
firmness; and that mouth and the lips are very beauti- 
ful, and over the whole countenance there is thrown an 
air of benevolence. The face is equal to any among 
pale-faced beauties. Who was the artist ?” 

“You must give us your opinion of all the others be- 
fore I tell you who did this,” said Joseph. 

And he replied: “That I will be glad to do.” 

They looked at several, and he returned to the Indian 
maiden and said : “ This picture haunts me now ; and 
will always haunt me. It is as though I walked by her 
side, as though she had mingled with us here, as though 
she had gone to the Great Spirit and had returned. 
That she would teach her race to bury the tomahawk ; 
that their great hunting grounds had had their day; 
that the bows and arrows, the guns and weapons of war- 
fare are to be exchanged for the plough and the spade ; 
that the great homestead of our country can keep them 
all, if they will work as we must do; to accept what there 
is of good; that there is change upon this planet — races 
pass away and others take their places— but the Great 
Spirit has homes for us all when this short life is ended, 
and to have their claim there. The scenes of carnage 
which had deluged the earth; the peoples preying upon 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


87 


each other; the sanguinary spirits of some and the un- 
fairness and evil in the world ; the immemorial dif- 
ficulties between the white, the red, the yellow and the 
brown people of the earth. The contemplation of this 
theme had a subduing and solemn effect upon these 
white people, and they resigned themselves to their 
thoughts until the breakfast call aroused them. When 
the morning meal was partaken of the guests dispersed 
to their several ways. 

The merchant helped them in their preparations for 
the Fourth of July, in the grove where they built a 
platform and decorated with the national colors. 
Berryan Benjamin and his aids were to roast the ox. 
Aunt Syley, with Tom and Dick, her great-grand-chil- 
dren, were taking the clam-bake in charge ; she was fire 
marshal, to see that every one was careful with the fire, 
and not to have a conflagration to wind up with. 
She held that If ’dere’s any ting ’dem gran’ boys ob 
mine like it is de bon-fire. An’ a bon-fire ob clams is 
jes’ de ting to set dem at, for de good tings is all down 
under de fire, an’ dey’s got to wait ’till de fire’s all 
burned u}), an’ put out, ’fore dey gits dem. But wen de 
tings is cookin’ on top ob de fire, dey can jes’ take dem 
off an’ leab de live coals to make de mischief.” 

She washed the clams clean, and then sorted them 
into three sizes, each size to have a fire by themselves. 
She commenced the’ bake by putting a clam with the 
mouth down, and placing a circle of them around it 
and then another circle around that, all with the 
mouths down, and when the circles had made a bed of 


88 


ON THE battery; 


them as large as the fire was to be, another bed of them 
was started for another fire. And each one of the beds 
were covered over with brush and wood, piled upon 
them, and the wood set on fire. And when the fire had 
all burned away, with a clean broom the boys swept the 
ashes all olf the clams, and took them up into pans, and 
they were ready to be eaten. And Aunt Syley always 
remarked that, who eber wants clams cooked in de 
bes’ way in de work had better come to dat clam-bake. 
Tom and Dick baked dem splendid.’^ To go to the 
creek and get the clams up out of the water and mud, 
and to roast them in this fashion, before they have lost 
their freshness, and then sit upon the bank and partake 
of them, seasoned with a mite of pepper and salt, is in- 
comparably better, if there is some one else to go into 
the mud after them, than cooking them home after 
they have been cried past one’s door, some days sub- 
sequent to leaving their Avatery abodes: but they are 
good even then. 

Independence Day was clear and pleasant, the fiags 
were given to the breeze, and it was celebrated with the 
rejoicings incident to that occasion. The usual litera- 
ture of the day had been examined, and a selection to 
read was secured in compliment to one of the surveyors 
mentioned before, who was expecting on the next day to 
start upon an expedition replete with hardship and 
danger. Just why that was chosCn instead of others, 
does not appear, but it did as well as any other. Mr. 
L— read an extract from Mr. John Q. Adam’s Oration, 
delivered in Boston, July 4th, 1793. 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


89 


Americans ! let us pause for a moment to consider 
the situation of our country at that eventful day when 
our national existence commenced. In the full posses- 
sion and enjoyment of all those prerogatives for which 
you then dared to adventure upon ‘ all the varieties of 
untried being,’ the calm and settled moderation of the 
mind is scarcely competent to conceive the tone of hero- 
ism to which the souls of freemen were exalted in that 
hour of perilous magnanimity. 

Seventeen times has the sun, in the progress of his 
annual revolutions, diffused his prolific radiance over 
the plains of Independent America. Millions of hearts, 
which then palpitated with the rapturous glow of patri- 
otism, have already been translated to brighter worlds — 
to the abodes of more than mortal freedom. Other mil- 
lions have arisen to receive from their parents and bene- 
factors the inestimable recompense of their achieve- 
ments, 

‘‘A large proportion of the audience, whose be- 
nevolence is at this moment listening to the speaker 
of the day, like him, were at that period too little ad- 
vanced beyond the threshold of life to partake of the 
divine enthusiasm which inspired the American bosom; 
which prompted her voice to proclaim defiance to the 
thunders of Britain ; which consecrated the banners of 
her armies; and, finally, erected the holy temple of 
American Liberty over the tomb of departed Tyranny. 
It is from those who have already passed the meridian 
of life ; it is from you, ye venerable assertors of the 
rights of mankind, that we are to be informed what 


90 


Olf THE battery; 


were the feelings which swayed within your hearts, and 
impelled you to action when, like the stripling of 
Israel, with scarcely a weapon with which to attack, and 
without a shield for your defense, you met and, undis- 
mayed, engaged with the gigantic greatness of the Brit- 
ish power. 

“Untutored in the disgraceful science of human 
butchery; destitute of the fatal materials which the in- 
genuity of man has combined to sharpen the scythe of 
death; unsupported by the arm of any friendly alliance 
and unfortified against the powerful assaults of an un- 
relenting enemy, you did not hesitate, at that moment 
when your coasts were infested by a formidable fleet, 
when your territories were invaded by a numerous and 
veteran army, to pronounce the sentence of eternal sep- 
aration from Britain and to throw the gauntlet at a 
power, the terror of whose recent triumphs was almost 
co-ex tensive with the earth. 

“The interested and selfish propensities which, in 
times of prosperous tranquility, have such powerful do- 
minion over the hearts, were all expelled, and, in their 
stead, the public virtues — the spirit of personal devotion 
to the common cause, a contempt of every danger, in 
comparison with the subserviency of the country — had 
assumed an unlimited control. The passion for the 
public had absorbed all the rest, as the glorious lumin- 
ary of heaven extinguishes in a flood of refulgence the 
twinkling splendor of every inferior planet. 

“Those of you, my countrymen, who were actors in 
those interesting scenes will best know how feeble and 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


91 


impotent is the language of this description to express 
the impassioned emotions of the soul with which you 
were agitated. Yet it were injustice to conclude from 
thence, or from the greater preyalence of private and 
personal motives in those days of calm serenity, that 
your sons have degenerated from the virtues of their 
fathers. Let it rather be a subject of pleasing reflection 
to you, that the generous and disinterested energies 
which you were summoned to display, are permitted by 
the bountiful indulgence of heaven to remain latent in 
the bosoms of your children. From the present pros- 
perous appearance of our public affairs we may admit a 
rational hope that our country will have no occasion to 
require of us those extraordinary and heroic exertions 
which it was your fortune to exhibit. But, from the 
common versatility of human destiny, should the pros- 
pect hereafter darken, and the clouds of public misfor- 
tune thicken to a tempest; should the voice of our 
country’s calamity ever call us to her relief, we swear by 
the precious memory of the sages who toiled and of the 
heroes who bled in her defense, that we will prove our- 
selves not unworthy of the prize which they so dearly 
purchased ; that we will act as the faithful disciples of 
those who so magnanimously taught us the instructive 
lesson of republican virtue.” 

Since these words were spoken we have proved the 
common versatility of human destiny.” But we must 
now return to the Inn and some other places. 


92 


OK THE batteey; 


CHAPTER V. 

The Old Will and the Old Letter.— Old Benhardt, and Davy’s 
Dream. — Greenfield Inn. — Buster, and Bill Pounce. — 'J'he 
Open-air Preacher. 


THE OLD WILL AKD THE OLD LETTEE. 

Bekhaedt and the children were glad of the shelter 
of the Inn, for they were weary and yery glad to rest. 
He felt his responsibility of their care, and mrde every, 
arrangement for their comfort. When they had taken 
their supper, they were disposed of to the best advantage 
for the night. It was quite full of people, so that Berry 
and David, who were to be together, were put into the 
room over the kitchen. It was a small room, and re- 
ceived the full benefit from the heat of kitchen fires 
under it. Benhardt, who regarded Harry as the apple 
of his eye, kept him with himself. Davy and Dorry 
bade the rest good-night, and took posse ssion of their 
room, when Davy’s tactics were immediately employed 
in barricading the windows and the door. He fastened 
them all securely in their rooms, too, to save them the 
trouble of doing it; but it was because he could not 
help doing it. Dorry did not interfere, but hastened to 
bed, when he soon fell asleep. Davy did the same. 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


93 


In this close, hot place, without any relief from open 
window or other aperture, they were very uncomfortable, 
restless and troubled. And Davy suffered the most dis- 
comfort, he was restless and tumbled about from side to 
side; but Dorry, being the stronger of the two, was 
sleeping through it all and enduring it much better. 
Davy at length fell into a dream. And he dreamed he 
died, and felt so great a joy that he should never feel 
badly again. He was not in heaven, but going there. 
And as he went he overtook and then passed groups and 
nrowds of people, and all the way, the numbers swelled 
to vast multitudes ; and always as he came along he ob- 
served that they all looked at him, he was the centre of 
their gaze. This perplexed him some, but he thought 
to himself: ‘^Oh, they all know each other here, they 
all of them know me now.” But it was such a look of 
trouble, and as though he could relieve it ; but he did 
not understand it, and pushed his way along and came 
up to what seemed to be one of the gates. But it was 
closed, and there was an angel standing beside it who 
asked him what he wanted there ? He replied that he, 
among the others, had a promise of an entrance there; 
and now please open the gate and let him into that one 
or into some other one of the gates. But the being 
bowed his head and told him that the gates were all 
shut; that a boy, a David Warner, had closed them all, 
and that they were spring locks and he could not open 
them from this side, and whoever was outside now must 
stay outside forever. And that the saddest part of all 
is that all these people are kept out as well as he. This 


94 


ON THE BATTERY; 


was too much, and he cried out aloud : “ I am David 
Warner!” 

“Well,” replied the being, ^‘do you forget that you did 
this great and terrible act ?” 

Davy, overcome with the terrible situation, now cried 
again in agony: “Oh, save these people! God of mercy, 
save the people, save these people !” He forgot himself in 
his distress over them, and continued to scream aloud 
to save somebody, until in his agony he awoke, with 
great drops of perspiration standing all over him. He 
was so terrified that he continued to scream at the top 
of his voice: “Open the gates! open the gates! open 
the gates of heaven !” Which strange adjuration, falling 
upon the ears of the startled Dorry, now wide-awake in 
the darkness, made him jump out of bed with fright 
and run for the matches, and he scratched them on his 
head, on the walls and on the table, and by the time the 
contents of one box were strewn over the floor in every 
direction one of them began to burn, revealing Davy 
standing in the corner, pale as a sheet and trembling in 
every limb. Dorry had great presence of mind, and saw 
at once that Davy was suffering with a bad night-mare 
and that the room was hot as blazes,” as he in strong 
terms expressed it, all owing to Davy corking everything 
up; “and now,” said he, “see what it has brought 
you to.” So he passed his hands over his head and 
moved his arms, and then Davy began to cry ; and Dorry 
thought he had better see the others, so he ran over and 
summoned them to come and see Davy, and help 
assure him that there was nothing the matter. At 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


95 


first they thought that the house was on fire; but not 
smelling any smoke or seeing quite enough light even 
by which to dress themselves, concluded that it couldn’t 
be that. And very soon they were all in the room. Harry 
kissed, and patted poor Davy on the head, and gradually 
he became composed. And when old Benhardt, who 
had been most thoroughly shocked, found that Davy 
was restored somewhat, and that there was no im- 
mediate peril, he could contain himself no longer. 

“Oh, Davy, if you vas back vid your goot ole gros 
muder, ole Benhardt gib all de hounds sterling he got in 
his ole drunk laid away, ven he can vork no more. Oh, 
all dese leetle cheeldrun lef vith vun ole man, ven you 
got so goot muder ’un so goot gros muder! How do I 
know vot Oder tings haben dis night? Harry, do you 
feels goot, or does you feels had ? Oh, vat shall I do 
mit dese cheeldrun ?” 

But the night was most over, and one of them men- 
tioned that it was not so bad as it might be; it was 
only a bad dream, no one was sick. And they sat with 
him until the morning. From that wretched night poor 
Davy was glad to let everything remain open, and was 
afflicted with his mania no longer. 

But there is something which shuts the gate of 
heaven to multitudes of people; not poor Davy War- 
ner’s — oh, no! But the spring-lock which does the 
dreadful deed is the alcohol of the parents, filling the 
world with murderers, with robbers and with dreadful 
beings, and upon whom heaven closes its gates. The 
fact is calculated to make one shudder and to shun the 


96 


OK THE battery; 


liquor “when it moveth itself aright’^ and sets itself in 
the tissues of life, the busiest demon in the world. 

The party started for home early in the morning. It 
was some time before poor Davy entirely recovered from the 
effects of his terror; he seemed weak and exhausted, 
but, to old Benhardt’s delight, he had no serious symp- 
toms; and riding re-invigorated him, so the spirits of all 
arose to the ordinary level. When they reached their 
home it was a long time before their mother obtained 
coherent details of their adventures; but upon stating 
and re-stating them, the whole narrative assumed its 
proper proportions, and she rejoiced that nothing of 
lasting injury had befallen them. After a few days 
there came a letter from Mr. Eolfe to their mother and 
to them. In it he related the incidents of the journey, 
giving a graphic account of the night near the woods, 
and the performers in the vehicles, and of the men whom 
they saw digging, and of the noises of the woods’ owm 
birds, the American owls. When they had read Mr. R — ’s 
letter they went into all sorts of conjectures regarding 
the men with the lanterns, and finally concluded that 
during the last war some gold had been buried there, 
and that in some way they had heard of it and made up 
their minds that it should stay there no longer, but that 
they would bring it up if nobody else did, and so went 
at night with dark lanterns for it. 

This seemed as good an explanation as their informa- 
tion allowed. And Harry said that he had heard the 
“Who-oo!” of those birds, and their other awful 
noises, for when he went up to see Will Meeks, who 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


97 


lived at Spear Ridge, near the Charcoal Burners, in his 
first tramp through those woods at night alone to reach 
the coal-pits, they nearly scared his senses away, when 
one of them glared upon him like a fiend, and hooted 
with such an unearthly sound that the whole woods 
rang. And if Will had not come up just then, he did 
not know what he should have done. 

They had sometimes visited the charcoal country, and 
had ridden in a big wagon with a flapping top, to see the 
pits. Davy and Meemee, wanted to know how it was 
done, and Mrs. M — told them that they must go and 
see : that first, the wood was all cut in lengths, generally 
selecting oak, hickory, and the most solid wood, as they 
made the best charcoal. The pits were dug ready for 
the wood and the fire. They made a fire and placed the 
wood upon it, and carefully covered it so that the wood 
would not turn to ashes, but only char it, and the more 
care they took the more success they had, and when it 
was charred enough, the coal was removed, and piled up 
into covered wagons, to be taken to market. These 
trips afforded the children delightful excursions, and 
the acquaintances of Will often rode to and from his 
home upon the charcoal wagons. From the youthful 
standpoint, a rough ride might please, when a similar 
expedition by older persons, or those of fastidious pro- 
clivities, might possibly be looked upon as very un- 
desirable. However, to those participating in these 
scenes, it was very enjoyable. Mr. Rolfe’s account of 
the merchant enchained their attention, and they said, 
that it beat all they ever heard, and when he came 


98 


Oif THE battehy; 


their way, they would go with him some, if he had no 
objections.” This part of the letter had interested 
David more than all the rest, and he pondered it well, 
for might not he he able to join him, and so carry out a 
scheme which had occupied his mind intently? He 
had meditated a plan of traffic in some articles which 
he had on hand, and others which he might secure, 
and those which coming from Alfy’s, might amount to 
quite a trade ; and in this manner add to, and increase 
his fortunes, and his grandmother’s. And the covered 
wagon, the merchant, and the wares, became to 
him, a morning, noon-day, and evening vision — an en- 
enchantment. He could scarcely await the coming 
man, with the promised introduction to them all. Alfy 
was taken into the plan, and, of course, it is needless to 
add that, when the proposition was submitted to him, he 
chimed in, and said, When the stock gets low, come 
over our way.” 

But to return to the evening in this narrative. It had 
grown late, very late, apd all dispersed for the night, 
leaving Mrs. Morton the only one awake. And she sat 
very quietly for a long time in a thoughtful mood. 

And then she went over to the old secretaire in the 
corner, took down the slide and opened the drawer, 
upon which, in large letters, were written these words : ; 

Owner Wanted,” and took out a parchment, and un- 
folded it and read it over carefully, and then, as there 
was no one there, said to herself: ‘^Yes, that is the 
place Mr. Rolfe has been writing about to us. What 
can those men be doing there at night, and for what are ^ 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


99 


they digging in the ground ? ” Mrs. Morton had these 
valuable papers in her keeping, which Mr. Morton had left 
in her charge. He had said that some day the proper 
owners might he heard from, and then it would be in 
her power to aid them, with these proofs of their claims. 
This paper which she had in hand now was an old will, 
devising a large tract of land and other valuable prop- 
erty to the surviving child and the heirs of such child. 
This child was a son. So far the knowledge ran, but this 
party, or these parties, had never appeared as yet to 
claim the estate. Here were the papers, there was the 
property, both awaiting their destiny. The name and 
the property belonged to the right man, and some day 
his identity would be established, and the identity of the 
land be correspondingly established. But Mr. Rolfe had 
merely related some circumstances. He, the man, must 
produce proof when he came. And she once more read 
over that old, old letter which belonged with the will. 

From Mrs. Morton and her family, it is necessary now 
to turn to 

GREEisEIELD IKN. 

It stood upon a sleight elevation, around which were 
rows of tie-posts. These were bare sentinels only a 
small part of the twenty-four hours ; for horses white 
and black, bay and dappled, fat, sleek, lean and ill- 
favored, scrubbed and rubbed against them, while 
ruminating in fancy upon their hunger, or perhaps the 
coming refreshments. Meanwhile, the eyes of their 
human friends were gladdened by the old sign, which 
put in an appearance from every direction, hanging as 


100 


ON THE battery; 


it did from the top of a tall chestnut post, with a pro- 
jecting arm reaching out so that here, where five roads 
met, they caught a view on each one of them. It was 
the Wheat Sheaf, known far and wide, for its plentiful 
cheer for man and beast. To the storm-stricken trav- 
eler an entrance within its doors was so comfortable, 
so homelike in its feeling, that to the housed ones it 
seemed too bad that every wayfarer could not come by 
Wheat Sheaf. The sign was golden grain upon a black 
ground, and the sheaf was not a smart bundle of chaff*, 
sticking straight up in the air, empty as nothing, but 
every head of the grain in the bundle was heavy with 
kernels of wheat, which weighed it down. The sign was 
suspended by a revolving-hinge and swung around so 
that all five roads had the benefit of the view. Driving 
in from the right hand, it beckoned to the approaching 
men, women, and children, You’re welcome! here’s 
good bread. Come in I wheat stands for everything good, 
we’ll feed you well I ” And to the animals : “ Here’s oats 
and corn and everything you like, stop a while.” And 
from all parts of the compass the same cordial invitation 
was extended: “You’re welcome — come in!” 

Nat, who watered the horses, kept the lantern in the 
best possible condition ; he polished the glass and filled 
the lamp the first thing in the morning, as soon as it 
was extinguished from its night’s illumination, and 
when he ran up the ladder he oiled the hinge of the 
sign, so there would be no obstruction in its revolving. 
This revolving-hinge, and the sign and lantern and 
post, were all in his charge, and when a storm was 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


101 


brewing, he fastened the sign with the broad side away 
from the Inn. Sometimes he found fault with the 
wind, and said, “ that wheat sheaf didn’t pint nowhar.” 
The people, however, found it notwithstanding this 
drawback to Nat’s calculations. He was just coming 
down from this high perch from lighting the lamp, 
when he was accosted by two men, one of them dark, 
and the other of light complexion. 

Holloa ! covey,” the dark one was just about to ex- 
claim, but checking himself, and seeming to have a 
second thought, he politely said, Good evening, here 
we are again ; have you the same room for us ? ” 

Nat, rattling down the ladder, replied, ‘‘Goodness 
gracious me ! I ain’t the lan’lord. Better go in thar — 
every man for his self — an’ ask,” pointing to the Inn at 
the same time. 

“ We’re tired and want to go right to bed without 
any supper, or anything; just please ask for us, and 
show us up. You know we’ve been here before.” 

“ Guess I know that. What you take me for, anyhow ? ” 
“ Oh, well, long as you get us our room immediately, 
you’ll do.” And then he added under his breath, “ I’d 
like to knock you down, and would do it if it’d pay.” 

Nat knew that sometimes angels were entertained 
unawares, but he said that that never was his luck. 
And the spirit of the host returning to him, regardless 
of his dislikes he spoke pleasantly, and said: “The 
room you had has been fixed up this week an’ smells o’ 
fresh paint ; will that hurt ? If it won’t I’ll take you right 
up, an’ tell the lan’lord that you’re thar. ’Ill that do ? ” 


102 


Ol?’ THE battery; 


The guise of the gentleman was too hard to keep up, 
and he answered, “ Bully for you ! ” 

Nat took them along, scratching his head as he went, 
and mentally observing, ‘‘ If this chap sleeps while those 
fellers is ’round, somebody ’ill he murdered. Thar a goin’ 
to ransack the lan’lord an’ old Wheat Sheaf, sure as my 
name’s Nat. I told him the last time they was bar — ‘Lan’- 
lord, them fellers doesn’t mean no good prowlin’ ’round 
bar; you’d better discourages ’em, somehow.’ An’ then he 
gives ’em over to me to watch. Goodness gracious me!” 

By this time he had brought them to the spot, and he 
put them into the upper room where they were before, free 
from interruption. And this suited Nat exactly, for at 
the foot of the stairs he could hear what their movements 
were. And he made arrangements with his sister to help 
him with some of his work, so as partially to watch their 
proceedings when they left the Inn. And now, to-night, 
he expected to have them fully in charge. But “ the lan’- 
lord/’ as he expressed it, “was so tremenjusly busy, that 
for once again those fellers was likely to be left to them- 
selves.” But he designed, while they were under the roof 
of old Wheat Sheaf, to stay awake so that they could not 
take advantage of any person there. 

When he left them, the men sat down at the table and 
began to examine some wigs, false mustachios and suits 
of clothes which they had with them. One of the men, 
the one with the fair complexion, was a pleasant-faced 
young man, who looked as though he might enjoy an 
escapade, and even assist in it; but there were no evil 
lines drawn across his face, which was broad and frank. 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


103 


and evidently a more than usual training would be re- 
quired to make a villain of him. He fitted a black wig 
upon his light hair, and looked at the mixture for dark- 
ening his face with dislike, reluctantly took it up, and then 
putting it down, exclaimed : 

had rather go just as I am. What is the use of all 
this ? I put on black hair and dark skin, you put on 
light hair and light skin ; that only makes it likely that 
if I am ever taken, as they might take me for a robber, 
that it would be that they had caught Bill Pounce at 
last, and found him to be a light-haired, light-complex- 
ioned man. The real light one escaped. And you know 
that if they get you there will be some accounts for you 
to settle. I go into this fair, because if loe do not, no 
one will ever go into it, and it will be all lost. I’m going 
to part company with you and stay on land awhile.” 

No, you won’t,” replied his companion, with a lower- 
ing face in which every bad passion reveled; ^^you musn’t 
think that I’m going to let such a lark as you go. I’ll train 
you in yet. We need a light-haired, fair-faced pard, and 
you’re just the one. You’d better stop your clack about 
giving up. Didn’t we have hard work to git you once ? ” 
“Buster” ceased to reply any more just then, for he 
knew that Bill had as soon cut his throat as not. And 
Bill took out a fiask of rum and drank off a quantity of 
it. “ It’s mighty hard work, and now we’ve been at it 
so long that we’ve got noticed by somebody, and they 
may come over to see what is going on, and then they’ll 
git popped over if they interfere. I thought that row of 
trees screened us from all chance to be seen, but it must 


104 


ON THE battery; 


be that some one on the high ground has leveled his 
blasted eyes at us. We’ll maybe find them to-night. 
It can’t be that we’ve made a wrong reckoning:'” Say- 
ing which he went to a valise in the corner and drew 
out a small iron box, opened it, and the flashing of rain- 
bow colors revealed the brilliants contained within. He 
took out a folded paper, replaced the box and laid the 
paper upon the table. It was simply a memoranda, de- 
tached from companion papers, and it read : 

^^Part of my son’s treasure, Greenfield Tract. — Begin- 
ning at the old, wild pear-tree, thence north, running 
forty-five chains, fifty links east to pile of stones, and 
Sims’ boundary line, thence east along said boundary line 
seventy-five chains, sixty links south from the corner of 
Greenfield Commons, thence west .” Here it stopped. 

After Bill had examined it a considerable time Buster 
took the fragment of paper and put it in his pocket, 
without any opposition from his companion, he think- 
ing it would be handy to have it with them. This rough, 
bad man and his associate had often studied the bearings 
of the land described upon this bit of paper, and had 
concluded to pay it a visit. “ For what could be its im- 
port, but that either near that wild pear-tree, the pile of 
stones, or the corners of Greenfield Commons, there 
were buried gold and treasure ?” Those who follow the 
sea, with its wild commotions, its shifting sands and 
shores, its treasures tossed and fretted about, can very 
easily transport its changing moods to the earth, and on 
the still quiet of the land endeavor to parallel the cov- 
eted treasure. And they do find them, for gold and 


OK, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


105 


gems lie away in tlieir dark abodes, where the pre-his- 
torics may have made the same eager search and found 
them, or they may never have suspected their existence 
or known their uses. But, however, with these searchers, 
notwithstanding the indefinite information this fragment 
of paper conveyed, they laid their plans to secure what had, 
without any doubt in their minds, been laid away for the 
son of this man. And this hit of paper was a mighty 
find, they said, and they preserved it to guide themselves. 

When they had become reassured that the points were 
right, and that they had located their claim, they both 
left their seats, and wrapped up their fixtures to take 
them along, and went out very quietly. They walked in 
an opposite direction to the one which they wished to 
take, until they were sure that they were not being fol- 
lowed, then they cut across lots, and reached the scenes 
of their nocturnal pursuits. They had dug several deep 
holes already, and a number of deep trenches, and in 
each case it would have required too much time to replace 
the earth, which being very heavy, their progress had 
been necessarily slow ; but the pear-tree was surrounded 
by heaps of earth and yet the trench revealed not that 
for which they were expending so much strength. The 
pile of stones was undermined and some of them had 
fallen over. They had not finished with this spot : they 
had deemed this the most likely place to succeed. But 
the distance from the corners of Greenfield Commons 
was what puzzled them the most. It was a more ex- 
posed situation, and they had exercised great caution 
heretofore, but they had dug a good many places from 


lOG 


OK THE battery; 


the corners according to the description, and now they 
designed to spend this night in digging in the more 
probable spot, the corners itself, and, as there might be 
persons passing by, they concluded to work without the 
lanterns, only having them ready for an emergency. 

They had vigorously kept up until Bill Pounce said 
that he was going to rest, and Buster must dig alone; 
which Buster refused to do unless Bill surrendered the 
job entirely. The liquor having taken an effect upon 
Bill he was uglier than ever, and Buster seeing that 
there was no use talking to him, concluded that the 
most prudent course would be for him to go on. 

After awhile Bill resumed digging again, and for a 
while worked very well, but all the time trying to pick 
a quarrel, and working himself into a rage with Buster 
because the treasure always eluded them. He became 
abusive at last, and hearing the sound of approaching 
wheels he raised the spade and, instead of striking it into 
the ground, with his full force struck Buster with it. He 
was a powerful fellow, and Buster had always been afraid 
to measure strength with him, when he was supplied 
with dangerous weapons, but not in an even encounter. 
The blow felled Buster to the ground, and uttering a 
heavy groan, he sunk across the trench in which he had 
been digging. Bill Pounce, aware of his risk of detection, 
rushed across the road and was lost in the darkness. 

The wagon stopped, and the gay voices were silent for 
a moment, and in the obscurity they knew not what 
danger lurked. But to go on and secure their own 
safety by flight from the impending violence, it might 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


107 


be, of a gang of robbers, was natural, but that loud 
groan intimated a sulSerer. And all was gloom except- 
ing the light from the lamps on the vehicle. They 
hastily took them off and commenced the search in the 
direction whence the groaning sound proceeded. 

LOREKZO DOW. 

The Open-air Preacher, who Excelled in that Capacity. 

The notices of his meeting were posted upon the 
trees in Moreland. He had a message for his fellow 
pilgrims there, and Mr. Eolfe, and the merchant, 
and others were expecting to hear him. He took the 
place in course, in consonance with his general plan, 
and through his immense activity he would fill appoint- 
ments at great distances, when tne localities were many 
miles separated. He would speak at one place, and 
then mount his horse and swiftly ride away and fill 
probably two other appointments which he had made, 
as is stated, agreeably to his custom, fixing three for one 
day, and having just time to reach one from the other. 

They found the merchant, who had frequently heard 
him, to be right in what he said — that he was a close- 
thinker and a shrewd observer, and so pressed his audi- 
ence with the truths which he presented, that they 
could not fail to accept them. He possessed a thorough 
knowledge of human nature, and his native wit enabled 
him to take the moral and intellectual dimensions of 
his audience; and instead of evading truths, he plunged 
into them and made the so-called mysteries of religion 
clearer than they were before. It was the afternoon, and 


108 


OK THE battery; 


the residents of Moreland and the country for miles 
around gathered in the woods, upon the outskirts of 
which, upon a tall stump, with hoards nailed upon it, 
the preacher was to take his stand. His words were free. 
There was no comfortable sofa for the speaker, nor chairs 
for the audience, but in a meeting of that kind an unflag- 
ging interest prevents the fatigue which an ordinary 
speaker would occasion. Joseph Kolfe and the merchant 
had taken their stand near the speaker’s position ; for the 
merchant knew him, and liked to be near to lose no word. 
He wore his hair long and flowing and his aspect was re- 
markable. The crowds collected, and still more and 
more people came. Promptly at the designated hour the 
outlook into the open road revealed a cloud of dust ap- 
proaching, from which emerged the horse-back rider. 
The horse evidently was accustomed to his rider, and 
stopped with a satisfled expression, as though he ex- 
pected his nibble of grass while the meeting was going 
on. His master removed his saddle and bridle and 
hung them on a sapling, upon which release, the horse 
laid down and rolled with several grunts, and then rose, 
shook himself, and proceeded to crop the grass. 

The preacher stepped upon the stand and, without loss 
of a moment, gave his text, one often used by all per- 
suasions; but it suited his purpose, too. It was — “Cry 

ALOUD, AKD SPARE KOT ! LiFT UP THE VOICE LIKE A 
TRUMPET, AKD SHOW MY PEOPLE THEIR TrIkSGRES- 
SIOKS.” 

“ And,” said he, “the prophet did it. So to-day I must 
cry aloud to you. To every one I have a message — ‘ Show 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


109 


my people tlieir transgressions.’ This leaves out no one. 
I know that there are some among you who say, ‘ Let us 
eat and drink, for to-morrow we die, and that is the last 
of us.’ But here I must take the foundation away upon 
which you lean ; you do not know that that will he the 
last of you. You can he unfair to yourselves, if you 
choose. But while the worm crawls beneath your feet, as 
it did while you came to this place, and it had no power 
to evade your monstrous tread, to escape from your vast 
stride, which, to its crawling or walking; is like inches to 
miles. And then, in another stage of its being, in its eager 
flight, observe it distancing your swiftest motion, seen 
one moment and far out of sight the next. Oh ! while 
such a change exists close by you, let it inspire you with 
a hope in at least a corresponding change for us human 
worms. To pass the subject by with indifference is one 
of the transgressions which I cry aloud against to-day. 

‘‘Do you say I shall not believe you upon these tran- 
scending subjects which project themselves beyond this 
life. If you are willing to rest upon an uncertainty, that 
is your transgression. I have no time to spare. I take 
your case in hand to-day ; it may be too late to-morrow 
for you. Certain it is that my voice shall have passed 
away for you. If you have never done wrong, then 
I will wait until you have a chance to go away and 
send some one in your stead.” (No one moves away.) 
“Now, if you have ever done wrong, that wrong is 
fastened somewhere, believe it or not. Oh, skeptic by 
that tree, you do not believe in God, or in humanity 
either, on the ground you take.” (Here some persons 


110 


01^ THE battery; 


moved away from trees against which they were leaning.) 
“ The failure in trying to apprehend God, as our God, is 
your transgression. Now, let me draw you to the Lord. 
We are made in the image of God — that is, with intelli- 
gence, mind, soul. I cannot think that it means form, 
as arms, body, and the head, only as it contains the brain, 
the seat of intelligence. But being made in the image 
of God refers to our thoughts, our mind, which in a 
moment goes to the centre of the universe or to the 
verge of it. But to our conceptions God always meets 
us so. And that is the errand which I have to-day to 
cry aloud to you, that God was made in the likeness of 
ourselves — the lowliest mortal with a body with human 
feeling; a little baby, a youth, a grown person. And 
then God did not take on old age ; that is human alto- 
gether. There was no waning, but in the full vigor of 
the human and divine life united, there was nothing 
more to do. I am a man beside the oldest inhabitant of 
this planet, and I cry aloud and spare not. When will 
there be a link between God and ourselves? We are 
made in the image of God; when will God be made in 
our image, and the chasm be bridged over? And they 
say to me: ‘Let us look for it, it is coming, we know 
that God is coming to take our form and to tarry with 
us.’ They all passed away without the sight. And the 
long procession of the ages at last paused before One who 
spake as never man spake. Did they cherish the words ? 
Did they cherish God in our image? Some of them did ; 
but the form was too lowly, their eyes were blinded to 
the exaltation awaiting — that God was glorifying the 


OK, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


Ill 


human body by wearing it a while, about as long as the 
full vigor of the human body lasts. Many did not un- 
derstand. The benign, harmless body was stretched as 
criminals were stretched, with nails and spear wounds. 
There was no age, no decay, blow, do you believe? 
What more can be done than has been done? It is with 
yourselves to do the rest. What think you of Christ ?” 
Then, turning around from where Joseph Eolfe stood, 
said he, ‘‘ Is there a person here who firmly believes that 
God is a Great Spirit, but can comprehend God in no 
other way? Now, you can see how you can come to 
God through Christ yourselves. Now, lest I may have 
hurt the feelings of any here who are aged, at the man- 
ner in which I present the Saviour God, let me say to 
you, with God there is nothing old, there is nothing 
new. So, how could Christ take the form of old age ? 
He was cut off in the midst of days; that that was all 
the old age possible for Him. The death of the body is 
its old age, at whatever time the soul took possession of 
it. Christ entered the grave where our mother, corrup- 
tion, and our sister, the worm, held high carnival, and 
has taken the victory from corruption and the sting 
from the worm. And when you go there His name, 
even, will make 

‘ . Your dying bed 

Feel soft as downy pillows are.’ 

In conclusion, friends, God waits to be gracious, so lov- 
ing and merciful, that if you will not regard the subjects 
which project you into the future, who will be to blame? 
Nobody but yourselves, at least in this favored spot.” 


112 


ON THE batteut; 


The time had come to pause, and commending them 
all fervently to the God who rose from the dead — the 
same in our humanity and in His own exaltation — hade 
them God-speed. When he stopped, every one drew the 
long breath which follows fixed and earnest attention. 
He descended from the boards, and, although urged to 
remain and be refreshed with them, he replied that he 
had not a moment to spare. And, calling his horse 
Rover to him, in a few moments his feet were in the 
stirrups and he was gone. The radiance of sunset 
lighted up the woods with long slanting rays, and, as 
the preacher disappeared, it seemed to the spectators as 
though he was swallowed up in a fiood of light. He had 
really gone before the people realized that he was 
through. They slowly dispersed to their homes. The 
merchant would meet him again, he knew, if he lived, 
for he never missed when his wayfarings took him near 
the appointments. In the morning he bade his friends 
adieu and resumed his tours. 

When he was gone, Mr. Rolfe,- senior, remarked that his 
face was familiar, and in his manner he was exceedingly 
like an old school-mate of his, whom he had last seen some 
years before in the city. He had just lost his wife, in con- 
sequence of which he was melancholy, and with his little 
son was about starting on a voyage. And since that 
time he had seen or heard nothing of them. And now, 
as he came to think more of it, he regretted that he had 
allowed him to go away without alluding to his old friend, 
and finding if he was anything to him. He thought 
that the next time they met he would certainly do so. 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


113 


CHAPTER VI. 

The Egyptian Legend, and the Susquehannah Legend. — Banyan’s 
Pilgrim’s Progress. — Spear Ridge. — Ancient Pottery. — ’J’he 
Old Sweating Vase. — The Arrival at Moreland. — Payment of 
Philopena. 

THE TWO LEGENDS. 

An Egyptian Legend, and an American Legend. 

The children had been reading Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s 
Progress^ and wanted to be pilgrims, too, so as to reach 
the happy land at life’s close. And some of them said 
there were such beautiful places before you get to the 
happy land. That if you only got in at the right gate, 
and then stayed there, and didn’t go off sideways, but 
kept right on and didn’t turn back, that the pilgrims 
were better off than other folks, because they were 
making everything as sure as they could. 

Oh ! ” said Meemee, just think of that awful Valley 
of Humiliation, and that terrible dragon there. I 
should think that dear little shepherd boy who said, 
He that is down, needs fear no fall,” would have been 
scart to death.” 

But Mrs. M — said, ‘‘Ho you not think every one there 
was safe, unless he had brought some old dragon to that 
place with him ? That is the only part of the pilgrim’s 
path that God walked when He came here among us. 
Where He had His manger-cradle, the carpenter shop. 


114 


OJf THE battery; 


and there He found the cross and the grave. Yes, chil- 
dren, the Creator of the earth, the Great Former of the 
universe, came upon this earth, in that low valley, and 
had a trade — a carpenter’s trade. It seems such an 
appropriate conception, there is nothing that could have 
more fully shown the sympathy of God for the human 
race than that God who fills immensity, in our human 
form trod every inch of the Valley of Humiliation, and 
knows just how it feels for us. And so the dear little 
hoy said — 

“ He that is humble, ever shall 
Have God to be his guide. 

'^Yes, and then we must enjoy the exaltation of 
Christ. God did not stay in the valley, is not there 
now, hut the footsteps are left, and we can put our feet 
right into the tracks, as no pilgrim can escape the 
valley. And in its quiet nooks, sometimes, the world 
loses sight of us altogether.” 

‘‘No,” said Harry, “ I suppose that they must go down 
there or they could not climb the Delectable Mountains. 
Just think of what a sight! That is what I like, too. 
Wouldn’t I like to look through that great telescope 
that Knowledge, Experience, Watchful and Sincere, 
showed them on Mount Clear. I’d never want to come 
down from there.” 

The various phases of Christian life were alluded to. 
And their mother said, that she did not know what 
she should have done that day without her crutches. 
This made them all look at her ; they hardly understood. 
And Meemee observed, “ AVhy, mother, were you lame 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


115 


to-daj, and did not let us know it? You seemed to 
walk just as good as ever ? ” 

“ Yes, my dear, I was lame ; I am lame every day.” 

Then why do you not have good Dr. H — find out 
what is the matter with you, and so get cured ? ” 

Good Dr. H — had made the acquaintance of all the 
children quite early in their lives, and they thought that 
if there were anything ailing any of them, that he could 
cure whatever it was. 

Said she : “ There is my whole bottle of Soap Lini- 
ment, mother, you can liave that to cure you ; you must 
rub it in some. I will do it for you, when you tell me 
where to put it on.” And Harry and Mildy looked at 
their mother just a little astonished. 

She, seeing their mystified expression, smiled and con- 
tinued : It is the lameness like Mr. Eeady-to-Halt, and 
of Despondency, and Much- Afraid, his daughter — the 
lameness which comes from leaning upon broken props.” 

Oh, now we know what you mean,” said Harry ; 
you mean the Pilgrim’s Progress yet. But why were 
they always stopping and stumbling, and in need of 
props ? ” 

“ It was because their faith was weak. They had tried 
the Lord but had tried themselves more, and, of course, 
this brought them to the poor, tottering pace. And if 
it had not been for the crutches, they would never have 
walked the path all the way" through. So I have been to 
the store where they got theirs, without money and 
without price. And in searching for some that fitted 
me, I found a great many; and on one side I have put 


116 


ON THE BA.TTEKY; 


this one: 'Fear not, be not discouraged, for I am thy 
God,’ and on the other side I have put: ‘For we 
know that neither height, nor depth, nor any other 
creature, shall separate us from the love of God, which 
is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ And I have borne very 
heavily upon them to-day. They have kept me up, 
while I am a day’s march further on.” 

“And they now said : “We know, now, what you mean, 
you mean the promises of the Bible. Do find some of 
them for us ? ” 

She told them how rich the Bible was with them, for 
all the ages and all the situations of life ; that there 
they could find little and big, long and short, or any 
kind that were needed. 

The evenings were becoming somewhat longer now, 
and they reminded Mrs. Morton that, long ago, she had 
promised to tell them about General Lafayette. They had 
been reading of his career in the Kevolutionary War, and 
they wanted to know how he looked, and some of the 
particulars of his visit to the people whom he had 
assisted. They rather thought that this particular 
evening, which occurs in this narrative, was the one. 
But there was Mildy busy at something, so they said 
that they had better wait until everybody was ready to 
sit down, and not make any disturbance while they 
heard about it. Of course, the supper-dishes could not 
be put away without being washed. Dorry said that 
they’d do as the boys did in the army. Mildy go to 
work washing them, and then she’d see what the 
manoeuvre was. So they formed in a line and Davy 


OE, Mildred’s dishes. 


117 


handed each one to her, and as she took one from the 
water under these directions, she passed it to Harry, who 
wiped it off, and then passed it over to Meemee, who 
handed it to Dorry, who placed it in the dresser; and 
that made the dishes handled five times, by five persons, 
instead of five times by one person. For which strate- 
gy Mildy expressed her thanks, and the line faced about 
and took the chairs for the evening’s entertainment. 

“And now, in the first place,” said Meemee, “how did 
he look?” 

Mrs. Morton, being thus questioned, replied: “He 
was tall, not stout, with light hair, fine complexion, and 
pleasing countenance. I had been waiting for hours 
at the battery, to catch the first glimpse of him. Cas- 
tle Garden was the spot where Lafayette was to land. 
The terrace at the base of the garden, and the splendid 
sweep of the Battery extending for more than a quarter 
of a mile, were crowded with people ; in fact, it seemed 
as though the whole population of the Island had come 
out to greet the illustrious visitor. The bay was all 
alive with boats. There was an aquatic procession of 
steamboats, with their decks packed full of human 
beings. There were upon the bay European vessels, 
painted gloomy black: there were others of lively, 
pleasing colors, and the whole were gayly decorated with 
a profusion of flags. Belonging to the pageant, one of 
the largest vessels had stopped to receive him, lying 
with her side to the shore ; meanwhile, others were sail- 
ing around the spot, giving a scene of wonderful life 
and animation. The crowd was exultant, but retained a 


118 


ON THE battery; 


deep and respectful silence. That the immense con- 
course of people were pleased, was perfectly evident ; but 
there was an air of subdued sobriety, of gravity, as 
though making a noise, would lessen the chances of 
seeing the object of their solicitude. As Lafayette en- 
tered the vessel which was intended to receive him in 
person, there were no exclamations, no audible greetings 
of any sort; but the nearly solid mass of bodies parted, 
and gave him room as he advanced slowly to the stern 
of the vessel. His countenance bore a gratified and 
affectionate expression, although a little bewildered, as 
he sought in vain for the features of his old comrades 
and friends. His eye was remarkable for its fire even 
now in his old age, and as he approached the extremity of 
the boat; last in the throng, there was standing a totter- 
ing, gray-headed veteran, to whom, by common consent, 
his countrymen had paid this tribute to his services 
and his age. That the pleasure and honor of receiv- 
ing the first salutation from an old friend should be his. 

“The old man extended his arms and pronounced his 
name, and, as Lafayette heard his name, he flew into his 
arms, as one glad to seek relief from feelings which op- 
pressed him. They were long silently folded in each 
others arms. This sight was affecting and truly grand 
in its simplicity. Devoid of pageantry, with no labored 
address, no prepared answer, no regulation looks and 
speeches, Nature asserted herself, and this kind French- 
man, who had come in the time of need to help us, now 
found what that help had been to us; that the fire of 
liberty he had fed for us would become the beacon-light 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


119 


of the world. Greetings now succeeded to greetings, and 
the vessels in company kept steadily on, all animated 
with one spirit and seeming to possess but one eye and 
one object upon which to gaze. But the more imposing 
spectacle was, apparently, the whole population standing 
in readiness to greet the guest. The approach to the 
shore became somewhat impeded, but the shouts of the 
multitude assured him of the general greeting of which 
the old man’s silent embrace had been the prelude. It 
was the Cadmus ” which brought him from France to 
our shores, and made the voyage in thirty days. It 
was after an absence of forty years that he visited us now. 
His old comrades in arms, many of them had passed 
away, but all hearts and arms were open to receive him. 

Lafayette was not twenty-five years of age when he 
first arrived in the United States, and from that time 
until just before his death he was much of the time em- 
ployed in the most interesting and important public 
duties. He served the United States much of the time 
from 1777, till the commencement of 1783. Between the 
close of the American Revolution, and the death of this 
great man, France was involved in civil wars several 
times, some of which were long and bloody. He was a 
conspicuous actor in all those seasons of peril, a friend 
of true liberty, and he made great efibrts to save his 
country from the horrors that accompanied those 
revolutions. His name will be honored as long as the 
world contains any friends of true republicanism or 
of civil or religious liberty. In his visits here he had 
ovations wherever he went; the people were only too 


120 


OIT THE BATTERY; 


glad of an opportunity of showing him their affection 
and respect. Before he left our country he visited the 
tomb of Washington, before which he stood and wept, 
with uncovered head. They had faced death many a 
time together, hut the peaceful death in the quiet of 
home had taken his old friend, and a like peaceful death 
awaited this man of such fine sensibilities. He was 
seventy-seven years old when he died. He had been ill, 
but was supposed to be better, but the violence of his 
illness returned, and as an application was being made 
to the chest to relieve his difficulty in breathing, his 
attendants told him what they were doing, and he only 
replied: ^ G’est Uen*; ‘Itiswell.^ They were the last 
words of this aged patriot.” 

When she had concluded her narrative, and many ques- 
tions were asked and answered, Davy turned lovingly to 
his dish with the picture of “ The Landing,” and thought 
how he would like to follow along, as his father did, and 
illustrate incidents of so absorbing interest; putting 
them where the hardened clay would keep them, where 
no water would wash them off, where, when one generation 
had used them, another one might still keep them ; and 
when Davy Warner was gone to his last home ’way off 
in the future, some one would say, man named David 
Warner drew the sketches on these old dishes ; see what 
beautiful colors he put upon them, these dark rich blue 
ones.’ ” 

During the evening old Benhardt had entered, and sat 
a rapt listener. He had come in to announce to Mrs. 
Morton that his work in the corn was done, and to 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


121 


arrange for the labors of the ensuing day. And then, to 
test his good nature, they asked him several questions — 
^uch as, “ Where did Indian corn come from in the first 
place, so as to have to work at it, for it to have to be 
ploughed at all ?” 

‘‘ Oh, now, vat for you ask me dis question?” 

‘‘Because we want to know,” said they. 

“ Vel den, it is jusht de zame as de barley grains. De 
Egyptian heathens thout dat von ob dere deities, Isis, 
found dat blant agrowin’ vild in de voods, among de 
torns an’ de tistles, an’ dook it out an’ showed men how 
to gultivate it, so as to make it eber so much more in 
quantity an’ in quality, so as dey hab as much barley 
brod as dey vant. I vender if dat idol dold dem how to 
make dat beer, too ?” 

“If that one did not, inaybe some other one did,” said 
Meemee. 

“ But now you got ahead ob ole Benhardt ’bout dat 
Injun corn. Mrs. Morton, vill you bleese dell dese 
cheeldrun ’bout dat ? Dey got me into such a pad fix ; 
dat corn belongs to dis country ! ” 

She laughed, and complied with his request. She said 
that uninstructed people generally referred the origin 
of all events for which they could not account to super- 
natural agency. And there was a tradition similar to 
that of the Egyptians’ deity, Isis, or the Goddess of the 
Moon, showing the Egyptians the barley. It was one, 
of others among the North American Indians, regard- 
ing the discovery of their maize or corn. This is the 
legend: “In the beginning, their predecessors were 


122 


0 'S THE battery; 


obliged to subsist entirely upon the flesh of animals, and 
upon fish. And if their hunting was unsuccessful, there 
was no refuge from starvation. And a deer being killed 
by two young hunters, they made a fire in the woods to 
broil some part of it When it was cooked, and they 
were about to satisfy their hunger with it, they beheld a 
beautiful young woman descend from the clouds, and 
seat herself among the Blue Mountains. And they said 
to each other: Mt must be a spirit who has smelt our 
broiling venison, and is hungry, and will eat some of it; 
let us olfer some of it to her.^ So saying, they went to 
her and presented the choice bit, the tongue. She was 
pleased with the taste of it, and said that their kindness 
should be rewarded. ‘ Come to this place after thirteen 
moons and you v/ill find something that will be of great 
benefit in nourishing you and your children to the 
latest generations.’ They did so, and were surprised to 
find plants that they had never seen before, but which 
from that remote time have been constantly cultivated 
among them to their great advantage. Where her 
right hand had touched the ground they found the 
maize ; where her left hand had touched it they found 
kidney-beans; and where she had seated herself they 
found tobacco.” 

This last find was greeted with ridicule, and Davy es- 
pecially remarked that ^Hhat last addition to the crops 
was as bad as the idol which taught the people to make 
beer of the barley grains. Beer and tobacco were apt to 
go together.” 

Meemee was roasting some potatoes in the ashes, and 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES 123 

patiently waiting for them to be done, and at the same 
time giving great attention to the Susquehannah legend. 
And suddenly she spoke, and said: ‘‘I know what she 
was sitting upon.” 

“What?” 

“Some potato hills, some sweet-potato and some white- 
potato hills. That’s what they found where she had 
been sitting. They found tobacco themselves. Very 
likely, that lovely being would have given them tobacco. 
It’s some kind of medicine, I know, and that’s what it’s 
for. It was food that she brought to them.” 

Here Benhardt interjected a remark. “ Oh, I vas so 
glad dat your muder dells us ’bout dat Injun corn. 
Now, veil I hoe an’ blough dat corn again, I look to see 
vat I can see on dat Blue Mountains ; maybe I see some 
lovely beings, too.” 

Meemee continued: “I know her name, even; it was 
Carolina — Carolina Potato.” 

“ Oh, mi ! vat you say, now ?” 

“Well, my dear child,” said her mother, “I believe 
your version of the story is the best. It must have been 
our own American potatoes. Nothing else would coin- 
cide so well with the other benefits which she conferred. 
I think you are right. The vegetable is so useful, and 
has adapted itself so readily to the different countries, that 
at least in one country, where Sir Walter Raleigh planted 
it in his grounds, they have adopted it so completely 
that you have heard Nan sometimes ask, ‘Shall we have 
Irish potatoes for breakfast?’ At the same time the 
sweet-potato was so unfamiliar to them that the emi- 


124 


OIT THE battery; 


grant having them with other edibles for his dinner 
asked ‘why the mistress cooked sugar with the yellow 
paradees ?’ ” 

“ Shan’t we tell Nan, when we see her again, that pota- 
toes are indigenous to this country, and see what she 
says to it ?” 

Dorry replied : “ I know what she’ll say.” 

“What?” 

“ Why, that we only got ahead of ’em a little, that they 
was bound for swate Ireland over by there, shnre, and 
dropped here on the way; that the swate lady had too 
much of a load, an’ left some o’ ’em wi’ us.” 

But they concluded that they would try her with the 
subject, when Meemee remarked that she thought “ it 
was so nice for the Indians to cut the corn off the cob 
and to boil it with beans, and to have taught us how to 
make their own succotash.” And, as all expressed a 
wish to have it once more, it was agreed upon for the 
next day. And Harry suggested that they have some 
hoe cakes for breakfast. 

Davy was sitting with his head supported by his hand, 
and the veins on his forehead were swollen, as they some- 
times are when the feelings are stirred. And, as if 
speaking would afford relief, he essayed to do so. 

“I can’t forget about that tobacco,” said he; “grandma 
says,” continued he, “ that smoking was first introduced 
into Europe in the sixteenth century, and that its use 
was prohibited under very severe penalties, which, in 
some countries, amounted to cutting off the nose — (and 
is the practise of voluntarily burning up our noses by 


OE, Mildred’s dishes. 


125 


making a ckimney of them mucli better ?) — and tliat it 
is computed, in smoking countries, that out of twenty 
deaths between eighteen and thirty-five years, ten orig- 
inate in the waste of the constitution by smoking. That 
no parent teaches his child in the use of tobacco, or even 
encourages it, except by his example. Tobacco is one 
of the most powerful poisons in nature. Even the phy- 
sician, some of whose medicines are so active that a few 
grains or a feAV drops will destroy life at once, finds 
tobacco too powerful for his use; and in those cases 
where it is most clearly required, only makes it a last 
resort. Its daily use in any form deranges and some- 
times destroys the stomach and nerves, produces 
weakness, low spirits, dyspepsia, vertigo, and many 
other complaints. These are its immediate effects. Its 
remote effects are scarcely less dreadful. From its con- 
tinually exciting saliva it dries the mouth and nostrils, 
and probably the brain, benumbs the senses of smell and 
taste, impairs the hearing, and, ultimately, the eyesight. 
More than all this, it dries the blood, creates thirst and 
loss of appetite, and in this and other ways often lays 
the foundation of intemperance — not a few persons being 
made drunkards by this very means. And it has often 
been observed that, in fevers and other diseases, medi- 
cines never operate well in constitutions which have 
been accustomed to the use of tobacco. And it is a 
fact that every man who chews tobacco and lives to 
be old, has expectorated at least one hogshead full of 
saliva.” Here he stopped to get breath. Poor Davy, in 
his impaired constitution, was a living remonstrance 


126 


OK THE batteky; 


to any who yitiated life-blood with the use of rum and 
tobacco. 

Old Benhardfs eyes had been fastened upon him 
while he dilated upon the weed, and as he slowly rose 
from his chair to go home with him, and Dorry, a service 
he performed mostly to see as much as possible of the 
boys, and always claimed that something might happen 
to Davy if he did not do so. He could not forget the 
night which brought such trouble to Dav}^, and yet such 
relief. Now, having risen from his chair and standing 
upon his feet once more, he said: “Vat you say dis 
ebening must be for more than noddings. Master Davy. 
I got von ole bipe vich I kep to look at somedimes, but 
ven I can see in de mornin’ vonce more I vill tro’ it 
avay.” 

And this biographer knows that he meant what he 
said, and that he lost no time in doing it. Some coin- 
cide with the use of the weed and some with its disuse. 
When choice governs, and not habit, they will not fail of 
taking the right side. 

SPEAR RIDGE. 

Return from the Visit. 

September had set in with all its beautiful fruitage, and 
the fine harvest moon, to which the young people of this 
narrative had been looking forward, and they improved 
the occasion to go and spend a week at Willy Meeks. 
They were anticipating in October to caiTy out the 
scheme of a visitation to Moreland. Julia at the same 
time, joining in a visit to her grandparents, accompany- 
ing the party with Mrs. Morton. They had been 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


127 


feasted and entertained in all proper ways, and had made 
a personal inspection of the Charcoal regions. Meemee 
had collected a great quantity of the grayish acorn cups 
of the white oak, her mother haying told her that some 
of their dried leaves remained on this kind of tree until 
the sap began to flow again in the spring for a new crop 
of leaves. And she thought that was so nice for all the 
leaves not to go away, and leave the tree all alone, hut 
for some of them to stay on the branches all winter. 
She was diverted by the pigs eating the acorns, and 
thought, Oh, how they must like a bitter dose.” She was 
so much interested in the oak-trees that Mrs. M — related 
to her the story of the Charter Oak— the Koyal Oak, 
and related the story of that great oak which was cut 
down in 1810 for the use of the British Navy, the wood 
of that tree being the best kind for ships. This immense 
tree grew near the town of Newport, in Monmouthshire, 
and produced nearly nineteen cords of sound, good tim- 
ber, with six tons of bark taken from it. And five men 
were twenty days in cutting down this tree, and two 
men were five months in sawing it. The trunk of the 
tree was nine feet and a half in diameter, and the num- 
ber of rings in the wood were over four hundred, show- 
ing that the tree must have been at least four hundred 
years in coming to maturity. And in twenty days five 
men spoilt the work of four hundred years. 

“ Oh ! what dreadful men they were.” 

Well, Meemee, if the trees were never cut down we 
could not have any wood for our houses.” 

‘‘Oh, yes; couldn’t we have stone houses?” 


128 


OK THE battery; 


^‘Yes, to be sure, but would you want to sit on a stone 
chair?’’ 

Oh, my, no, ma’am !” 

‘‘Well, that is what the little acorns are for, to fall to 
the ground and grow up into other big trees.” 

“But such an old, grandmother tree as that one was — 
four hundred years old — my! I should have thought 
they would have let it stood, to see how long it would 
live. I’m so glad that the Charcoal burners don’t cut 
down the chestnut-trees until they have to, because they 
make snappy coal.” Her thoughts now reverted to the 
work they had done there. “We gathered a whole lot of 
burrs, and then somebody forgot to bring them home with 
us,” said she. “I hope Willy Meeks will find them, and, 
when the frost opens them, he can have them himself.” 

“Do you know,” asked her mother, “where the chest- 
nut-tree belongs ?” 

“ Oh, yes, ma’am, it came from Spear Eidge.” 

“ But,” said her mother, “ the chestnuts there 
were all brought from some other place, and planted 
there. In some countries the chestnuts are nearly 
all the poor people have to eat. Some of the trees 
have large chestnuts on them, larger than the ones you 
gathered. The people boil and eat them, and in some 
places they make them into cakes, puddings and bread.” 
Said she now, “Oh, mother, let’s have some of them in 
cake, in pudding and in bread.” 

“Well, when you get so hungry that nothing else will 
satisfy you, we will gather enough to make a baking, 
and you will have to help shell them.” 




EVAPORATING VASE. 

{See Pages 131 - 139 ), 




- 





. ¥ 




;••• 
I f 






I 

* - 




? 


t 






li*” 



t4‘ 

.' 4 \^ '' 


/; 





< 





I 


f. 



s 



% 


4 



OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


129 


Oh, I’d rather not have to do that, only as they are 
boiled, and I eat them that way.” 

The quiet conversation between the child and her 
mother had progressed without the usual interchange of 
remarks, because they had all been there, and the sub- 
ject was a familiar one. 

“Now, while we are talking about them, remember, 
my dear, that the chestnut-tree is a native of Asia, but 
it has been taken into various countries, and we have 
it here. It makes excellent timber; all that post and 
rail -fence out there is chestnut wood. That gate-joost 
down the road has lasted fifty-two years. And the 
barn alongside has chestnut wood in it which has been 
covered from the weather, and has remained sound fifty 
years. It grows very rapidly, making trees over one 
foot and a half in diameter in less than thirty years. In 
this country it grows to the size of twenty feet around 
it, but in England it grows to over forty feet around it. 
There are several of them on Mt. iEtna; travelers say 
that they are of enormous size. On an old map of Sicily, 
nearly a hundred years old, there is one marked as two 
hundred feet in circumference, and it must be a very old 
tree. It is called ‘ the chestnut of a hundred horses.’ ” 

But now this big tree upon the mountain they all 
wanted to see. 

“ Mother, can’t we go there, to Mt. -^tna,” said Harry 
and the boys, “so as to see it?” 

“ Well, children, some of you may get there yet,” she 
replied, “ there is the Atlantic Ocean to cross, and the 
Mediterranean Sea ; probably you may go, some day.” 


130 


Oif THE battery; 


They finally concluded that for the present they would 
get along with smaller chestnut- trees in other places. One 
horse had eaten some of the bark off the side of the old 
chestnut-tree up the road, which would shelter five or 
six horses nicely, and they agreed to watch and see 
whose old nag did it, and have it muzzled so it couldn’t 
bite it any more. 

What are you talking about, now — chestnuts or horse- 
chestnuts?” said Meemee. 

Why, chestnuts, to be sure; what’s the matter ?” 

«Oh !” 

But Mrs. Morton told them not to be looking for ‘^old 
nags,” for their teeth were too dull, but to look for a 
young nag as the perpetrator. And they set to work 
to watch until they found the one which did it. And, 
surely enough, it turned out to be Mr. Spencer’s fine 
young horse. And they made a complaint to him 
about it. And Mr. S — was quite interested, with them, 
in having the tree hurt no more, and of curing the horse 
of this mischievous trick. So he took out some lamp- 
oil and put it over the bark, and the colt did not like 
the bark any more. 

As this narrative in its progress includes some people, 
and some pottery to a certain extent, and those who once 
cared for them — for instance, old Aunt Syley polishing 
her china ; and Mildred, with her continual wash, wash, 
of the plates and cups; and Mrs. Morton recounting 
their various uses. When the scenes have changed for 
others, they bring vividly to mind the poet’s words, 
uttered since those days : 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


131 


There are more guests at table than 
the hosts 

Invited ; tlie illuminated hall 

Is -thronged with quiet, inoffensive 
ghosts, 

As silent as the pictures on the wall. 

'I’he stranger at my fireside cannot see 

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds- 
I hear ; 

He but perceives what is : while unto 
me 

All that has been is visible and clear. 

— 11. W . Longfellow. 

The work-a-day world has its bowls, its jars, and 
vases. And the young party with whom this narrative 
is dealing cast their eyes once more, as they had often 
done before, upon the mantel, and, reposing in the aban- 
don of disuse, there was a bowl, and there was a vase. 
It was a clay vase, not so remarkable in its looks; its 
picture might have been given the go-by for some- 
thing exquisite in design and finish. But it was a 
magical vessel; it had been of the greatest use; in 
this plain affair, had been the comfort vainly sought 
elsewhere. Dorry and Davy had frequently seen them, 
as they stood in their places, without an inquiry. But 
now, upon this day of which the story tells, they asked 
what they were, where they came from, and so forth. 
Mrs. Morton, thus appealed to, gave them some account 
of each. Said she, ‘‘ The bowl is jasper ware ; you see it 
is a bright yellow, with some beautiful sketches of 
scenery upon it, with a black rim. It was brought to me 


132 


ON THE batteet; 


one day by an old aunt of mine, and it was full of fruit 
which she had picked, herself, for me. And as she gave 
it into my hand and sat herself down by the door to 
rest, she said : ‘ Tve come to see you once more. The 
golden bowl is almost broken with your old aunt, my child. 
IVe seen our family melt away, and darkness close the 
windows of nearly all. Keep this bowl to remember 
this day, for it is my birthday. I won’t say to remem- 
ber me, for don’t I know that you can’t forget me ; it is 
not in you to do that. But dear, it is your birthday, too, 
as well as mine, so that’s what made me bring this bowl 
to you.’ I put it on the shelf there, and it is one of my 
treasures. Dorry and Davy, you have yours. And 
that clay vase you ask about has been with me through 
‘ thick and thin.’” . In a dry and thirsty time it was 
our fountain. Many and many a time it has been filled 
with water from a calabash, the price of the water 
being a picayune for the contents of the calabash. And 
when it was filled once more, we placed it into a saucer 
of water, or oil, to keep the ants from getting into it. 
It is made of porous clay, and without any kind of 
glazing ; so as an active evaporation through the pores 
will be kept up, and so lowering the temperature, and 
keeping the water for drinking as cool as possible.” 

Said Davy, May I take it down ? ” 

“Yes, my dear, but be very careful not to break it.” 
Davy and Dorry each took it and examined it closely. 

Just think of having to buy water, Davy!” 

^^Yes,” said she, ‘‘the water-carriers came past the 
house quite frequently, and if we had drank all the 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


133 


water that was in the vase, we made a sign to the person 
carrying the tub upon the head, and the carrier would 
stop and empty the calabash full into it. You know 
that where Alfy lives j there are places in the city where 
the people have to buy water ; for the water in the wells 
is not good, or else they become dry and they don’t have any 
at all.” The elaboration of the topic made them thirsty, 
they said, but as they scampered off to the well they 
were soon supplied with all the drink they required, 
and without the picayune to get it. When they had 
resumed their places, Harry remarked: “This old vase 
of ours must be like those used in Egypt, and other 
countries with hot, dry climate.” 

His mother replied: “Yes, the Egyptians in for- 
mer times, and at the present time, still manufacture 
earthen jars of porous quality, which were, and are, 
used for cooling the water of the Nile. Such jars are 
still made in great numbers at Keneh, in Upper Egypt. 
The Egyptians who worshipped the sun and moon, 
sometimes deified the water-pitchers by putting on 
them the head of their goddess, Isis, the deity of the 
moon, or the head of some sacred animal.” 

“ That’s the same old idol Benhardt was talking 
about, who showed them the barley grain.” 

“Yes, Meemee, the same one. Interesting objects 
like these are found in the tombs of the kings in Egypt, 
and in the caves there. Among the most extensive 
burial grounds in Egypt were those in the neighborhood 
of the pyramids of Jizeh. These were in proximity to 
the ancient capital, Memphis; and there are innu- 


134 


OK THE battery; 


merable sepulchres, which spread over a space of many 
miles. In researches near Thebes, the caves are found 
cut in the rock, generally with their entrance facing the 
east, with an outer doorway adorned with hieroglyphics, 
and an inner one, on each side of which is placed the 
figure of the fox, denoting watchfulness. There are 
deep chambers, and an endless number of winding re- 
cesses. In the sacred valley, named Biban el Moluk 
(the tomb of the kings), there is a single natural en- 
trance that is formed like a gateway, or by the craggy 
path across the mountains. The tombs are all cut out 
of the solid rock, which is of hard, white stone. The 
tombs in general consist of a long, square passage, 
which leads to a stair-case, sometimes with a gallery at 
each side of it, and other chambers. Advancing further, 
there are wide apartments, and other passages and stairs; 
and, at last, a person finds in a large hall, the great 
sarcophagus, which contains the remains of the kings. 
Some of the tombs are open and some of them are en- 
cumbered with rubbish at -the entrance. One of the 
tombs in the Biban el Moluk has figures of harpers in 
it, playing upon harps.” 

Said Meemee: ^^That king must have liked music.” 

^‘Oh, yes,” continued her mother, ‘Hhey put the pic- 
tures of what people liked in their tombs. The figures 
are painted upon the walls of the chamber, they are part 
of a large picture ; one of them is black and one of them 
is white, their faces both being turned to the deities rep- 
resented upon the wall at the end of the chamber. One 
of the harps has twenty-one strings. Their attitude is 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


135 


easy and free, and the form of the instrument is elegant. 
In the chamber opposite to that of the harpists, articles 
of domestic use are represented upon the walls — repre- 
sentations of vases, remarkable for the beauty of their 
form, and the brightness of their colors. Among them is 
the modern bardaque, which is used in Egypt for cooling 
water, and seems, from its appearing here, to have been 
well known in ancient times. It is a vessel made of 
porous clay, lightly baked, and rather thin. The water 
which is constantly penetrating through the small pores, 
forms a thick dew or moisture on the outer surface, by 
the rapid evaporation of which the temperature of the 
vessel, and of the water which it contains, is reduced con- 
siderably below that of the atmosphere. In some of the 
grottoes of Greece, a man is represented fanning one of 
the vases for the purpose of cooling the water. The fan 
he is using is a palm-leaf with a handle, and looks like 
the fans which come from the Bermudas, and which are 
used by the women here. These jars have narrow or 
pointed bottoms, like many Eoman amphorae, (that is, 
two-handled vessels, which, among the Greeks and Ro- 
mans, were used for holding oil, wine and so forth, 
and contained about seven gallons and a pint), and 
on account of this peculiar formation, they are placed 
in a kind of frame-work, and sometimes carried between 
two men. Some of the Roman amphoras were probably 
stuck into holes in the ground. 

‘^You know I said that immense quantities of these 
vessels are manufactured at Keneh, near Thebes, and 
the people fan them to quicken the evaporation. On 


136 


OK THE battery; 


the pictures that I tell you about, their manufacture is 
also represented : there is the dull-gray clay, which the 
workmen are forming into vessels of various form ; each 
workman has before him a low stand, on which there is 
a flat circular board placed horizontally. Some of them 
hold this with one hand, while the thumb of the hand 
is stuck into the vessel that is forming. The inference 
is that the circular board moved around on an axis. In 
another place they are baking earthen vessels in tall, 
thin furnaces, out of which the pots come of a red color, 
and are carried off by a man in something like a large 
pair of scales; the lever of which passes, as usual, over 
his shoulder, just as you have seen a person carry two 
pails. The earthen vessels made in some parts of Spain, 
near Cadiz, for instance, for cooling water, bear a close 
resemblance in form to the bardaque of modern Egypt and 
the cooling vessel painted in the grottoes of Greece, their 
use is the same precisely. There was an experiment made 
with these vessels upon the river Nile. The thermometer, 
placed in the shade, but exposed to the air, during the 
greater part of the day marked 110. 75® Fahrenheit. At 
sunset the water of the Nile was 82.6®. A bardaque Tvas 
fllled with this water and placed on the deck of a boat, 
and kept there till daybreak, when the temperature of 
the river was the same, but that of the water in the jar 
was only 61.25®, and more than half of the water was 
evaporated; there having been a continual current of 
air upon the river. The water in the wells of Cairo, 
in Egypt, is slightly brackish, so there are a great many 
carriers and sellers of water who obtain their livelihood 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


137 


by supplying its inhabitants with water from the Nile. 
They carry it in skins upon the backs of camels and 
asses; the ox skins are made into large square bags, 
and are placed on each side of the animal. But some- 
times, if the distance is short, they carry it themselves 
in a bag made of a goat skin, with a long brass spout 
put into it, and the carrier pours the water into a cup 
for the person who would drink. But a more numerous 
class bear upon their backs a vessel made of porous 
gray earth, which cools the water. And sometimes the 
visitors to religious festivals pay the bearers of the 
water, and then they distribute it among the thirsty — 
a cup full to whoever wishes it. You know our Saviour 
said, ‘ Whosoever gave a cup of cold water, should not 
lose his reward.’ When employed to distribute water 
in this way they are allowed to fill their vessels at a pub- 
lic fountain, and exact nothing from those who drink 
the water ; the offering have been given by the visitor 
to the festival as theirs. And while distributing it to 
the thirsty, the carriers chant a short cry, offering them 
to partake in the name of God, and praying that para- 
dise may be the lot of those who made the gift. And 
this vase which you have now taken down from the shelf 
was the drinking vase which we used where we were.” 

‘‘Oh, Mrs. Morton,” said Dorry, “why did I not ask 
you about it before? It is so interesting.” 

“ Well, Davy and Dorry, do you wonder that I prize it ?” 

“ Oh, no, ma’am ! But can’t we put some water into 
it and have it evaporate ?” 

“ Yes, if you will not break it.” 


138 


OK THE BATTERY; 


“We’ll bring some water out of the pail and put into it.” 
It stood all through the evening; and the children were 
going to sit up until it got into a fine perspiration. 

While they were waiting to see it sweat, Davy went 
over and brought his grandmother to spend the evening. 
And so she took out some knitting, as was her custom, 
and being so used to the employment, she knit without 
looking at her work, very much to the amazement of the 
children generally; and sometimes they would watch 
their chances, and try to imitate her ; which exploit al- 
ways resulted in a series of gutters, lanes, and other queer 
places. So when they took her work now, she made 
them promise that they would look and see how to do it. 

“ So you have the water vase in use, I see,” said she. 

“Oh, yes, grandma; we’ve seen it all along, sitting 
upon the mantel, but it looked so cool, and gray, and 
quiet, we hadn’t the least i dea that it was such a won- 
derful vase.” “No,” continued Dorry, “that it had been 
far away, where there is a season without rainfall, and 
that it mitigated the heat of the water, and shed the 
heat, by sending some drops of water out on the other 
side, and they carried the heat off with them, so the 
folks didn’t have as warm water to drink as they would 
have had without it ; and here it has sat so dried up all 
these days, where water is plenty, and ice is plenty, too- 
Why, it’s like the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. Its 
home must be Arabia. My, how different from the 
glazed dishes ! This is valuable because it leaks all over ; 
mine would be valueless if they leaked anywhere. The 
vases which I have, when I put cold water into them, on 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


139 


a hot day, form a dew all over the outside, but it does 
not come through them. And I’ve always said that they 
were sweating, but it isn’t sweating, after all.” 

Meemee thought that it was all in that glazing. 

Yours are fixed not to leak, Dorry.” 

‘‘And you know that there are ditferent kinds of earth,” 
said Mrs. M — ; “ unglazed earthen will admit the water 
between the pores ; to make it perfectly tight it is gener- 
ally glazed. There are porous pipes which are laid in 
the ground, and the water, percolating through the clay 
of the pipe, drains off the water from the land. The 
dew that you speak of, Dorry, which forms upon your 
pitchers and vases, is the moisture of the atmosphere 
condensing upon them, condensed by their cold surfaces. 
As soon as the water becomes of the temparature of the 
air, they are dry upon the outside.” 

Harry thought that the filter down in Alfy’s cellar was 
another curious thing. They put a pailful of water into 
it, audit dripped out into another one kept down under it, 

, and that porous vessel held and strained all the little fine 
particles which were bad to drink, from going through 
it. ’Twas a queer, rough-looking thing. Now, what 
useless things the beautiful china vases would be for such 
a purpose. I guess those Cairo carriers would stand 
them up on their shelves to lock; at in their land, like 
we do with this one here in ours. And if children 
like we ask, about them, I ’spose they say, ‘ They’re only 
to look at, not to make the water any cooler.’ But, of 
course, the ware of such exquisite beauty and finish is 
only for ornament in the form of vases; table ware is 


140 


ON THE battery; 


much of it very beautiful and costly, and breaking a set 
is a great aggravation/^ 

Mrs. Warner was the speaker now, and she contin- 
ued : My dear children, there are so many varieties of 
clay, so many kinds of earth, that are used by the pot- 
bakers and the china-makers, you would scarcely 
believe, and different ways of manufacturing pot- 
tery. My old home was noted for its pottery works, 
Staffordshire. And there are other parts of the coun- 
try where it is made. And going through a country, 
just to look at it, one would not suspect the wealth 
which lies below. There is bog and moorland, showing 
nothing upon the surface; but down under the peat, 
there is a fine substance which makes the finest porcelain. 
In Devonshire and many other places, the peat has been 
removed, and it has been found that the rain-water, fil- 
tering through the peat, produces a solution of the peat, 
and that it carries with it a decomposing solving action, 
and under it, the granite beds are dissolved, and it be- 
comes the finest porcelain clay.” 

“Grandma, is that in the picturesque part of the 
country called Dartmoor ? ” 

“ Yes, Davy, they are called the Lee Moor beds of 
clay. And every ton of porcelain clay is said to require 
at least four tons of fuel in its manufacture.” 

“ Where do they get so much fuel from ? ” 

“ This is furnished partly by the lignite quarries.” 

“ Why does it take so much fuel ? ” 

“ It has to be baked a great deal, yes, more than our 
bread is baked. And you know that you think that 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


141 


heating the oven for the bread takes an enormous quan- 
tity of wood.” 

“ I guess that’s because I cut it.” 

‘‘ How would you like, Davy, to bake plates, bowls, and 
pitchers, instead of baking things to put upon them?” 

‘‘Oh, I think that would be grand; I’d like that. 
If I could only get some of that porcelain clay that you 
tell of, I’d make lovely dishes of it, and cover them all 
over with black holly-hocks, and copper-colored mallows.” 

“ Oh, Davy, you’d better put those patterns, which 
you speak of, upon the stone pots, made from the 
blue pot-baker’s clay, and put pinks, roses, and lilies 
upon the porcelain clay which your grandma tells of, 
when you make your dishes.” 

Davy took a thoughtful mood, and observed that he was 
afraid he would never have an opportunity to make any. 

“But let me tell you, Davy,” said Mrs. Morton, 
“ stranger things than that have happened.” 

And this narrative will prove the truth of the obser- 
vation. It follows these persons from their visit to Alf s, 
their stay at Spear Ridge, and now since those visits, the 
time was filled in with these quiet, pleasant evenings at 
Mrs. Morton’s or at Mrs. Warner’s, while they anticipated 
starting out again on a trip to Moreland. They had heard 
from the merchant, that he would not be in the vicinity 
of their homes until in the autumn, when he promised 
himself the pleasure of their personal acquaintance, the 
interval between, being occupied by several short trips to 
contiguous places, which would keep him very busy until 
then. Mr. Eolfe had paid them a flying visit, and he 


142 


OK THE BA.TTERY; 


wrote to them that they were expecting them, according 
to agreement, when he would have some interesting 
things to show them all — curiosities from that great 
part of the country called Louisiana, for which we had 
given to France the sum of fifteen millions of dollars. 
It was an immense tract, including mines, great moun- 
tains, salt lakes, alkali deserts, inland seas and strange 
mounds, which seemed to have been Indian tombs, and 
which contained strange pottery, as disclosed by the in- 
vestigations so far; and the country was inhabited by 
red men. That some of their friends had gone into its 
extensive wilds and had met with hardships and with 
danger; had explored prairies, followed rivers, climbed 
mountains, and they only longed for iron bones and 
sinews, that they might pursue the ever widening pros- 
pect, until it was lost in the mountains and the inland 
seas, and limited only by the great ocean. 

These children made up their minds, in view of all 
these particulars, that the folks who went there to ex- 
plore must have a great deal of courage to do so, all 
alone, liable to be eaten by bears and wolves, or killed 
by Indians. Davy, as far as he was concerned, gave it 
as his opinion that he, himself, would have to eat several 
barrels of flour and a good many bushels of fruit, vege- 
tables and other things before he would feel able to go 
and join them.’' It seemed to be impressed upon his 
mind that he was a sort of old already, and he often 
said: “Davy will never old.” Perhaps he meant 
he would not live to fill the' span of human life. Put, 
whether he did or not — very true, poor child, for what 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


143 


is disease but premature old age ? But so great is the 
recuperative power of nature in the vigor of childhood, 
when all the physical needs are favorably met, as they 
were in his case, that there is an improvement going on 
year by year. His muscles were strengthening by proper 
exercise and proper food ; his brain was not fatally weak, 
and as there was no strain or pressure of any kind upon 
him, and he was constantly in the cheerful and tender care 
of his grandmother, the chances were that he might accu- 
mulate health to carry him on even to three-score-and- 
ten. His mania for cementing himself and his friends 
hermetically in their rooms had worked its own cure. 
He lived out-of-doors as much as possible, and it agreed 
well with him. And his grandmother rejoiced in these 
signs of health, for he was her only solace as she de- 
scended the vale of years. And the thought often arose 
and was expressed to him, that if his grandfather had 
lived, how much they would have been to each other, 
and all those plans which he had for Davy’s father 
could have been developed for him. . 

THE ARRIVAL AT MORELAND. 

Joseph Rolfe, to return to an important personage 
with whom this narrative is familiar, was an individual 
of exceeding industry, always busy; but just at the time 
he now appears again, he had some fresh employment. 
At certain hours he would disappear and spend the time — 
whether morning or afternoon, whichever were the more 
convenient — in this occupation. AVlien inquired of con- 
cerning it, his replies were of a non-committal nature, 


144 


ON THE battery; 


the only explanation being that he found he had con- 
tracted a liability of some kind, and designed to work it 
out, which laudable design they offered to forward by 
passing around the hat, to come and help him with 
divers methods, which were unequivocally rejected. 
Like the early bird catching the worm, he favored those 
hours selected by that enterprising biped. Curiosity, 
merely for the sake of curiosity, being a vulgar animus, 
and his work being for his own benefit, his motives 
were respected, his operations unmolested, and the de- 
velopments of time being regarded as sufficient in the 
premises. He was pleased to congratulate them upon 
their politeness, that true politeness of the heart, which 
is all too scarce in this world. 

Old Aunt Syley grew very sober over it all and uttered 
her sentiments. You’d better jes’ let Massa Joe ’lone 
’bout dis, he knows what he’s ’bout ; wen he gits dat 
li’bility paid, dat pussun ’ll owe him.” If, then, any of 
them bothered him, she felt it worse than he did him- 
self. Oh, who can fathom the depth of the old nurse’s 
love ! The little child once taken into her heart lives there 
in perpetual youth; the boy, the girl, may grow to giant 
size, may tower above their fellows, or they may be mere 
pigmies, nobodies, to any one but her; they are hers all 
the time. 

Her favorite, seeing that something touched her, said: 
‘‘Now, now. Aunt Sy, are you going against me, too?” 

“No, bress your heart, I’se for you now, an’ wen you 
gits dat li’bility paid, too.” 

This brought a smothered laugh from the rest of the 


OE, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


145 


family, and perceiving that they were getting a clue to 
it all, he precipitately left them. 

The evening of the same day, old Benhardt holding 
the reins over one team, and Harry over another, made 
their appearance, to fulfill the promised pleasure of which 
the parties in the vehicles were expectant. They 
now vacated their carriages, came into tlie house, 
and, in the several rooms to which they were shown, 
relieved themselves from travel-marks, dust and so 
forth, were refreshed, and rested, and escorted around 
the house and grounds. Mrs. Warner was considerably 
fatigued, and prolonged her rest. Mrs. Rolfe and Mrs. 
Morton had an agreeable conversation with each other 
upon the piazza in their rocking chairs, while the young 
people all went ofi* to explore the place, with the dogs for 
their guides. The Rolfe sisters and brother took possession 
of J ulia H — . They had been fearful th at home cares would 
keep her from coming, but she said that her next sister 
was drilling herself in housekeeping, and did not object 
to the opportunity afforded to practise her skill, so she 
felt perfectly free to come. There was a project afloat 
for another year, and they fell into discussing the par- 
ticulars. Julia was not pretty, as the phrase goes, but 
very fine-looking. The play of the features made her 
beautiful, when animated. Her eyes flashed and sparkled, 
and sometimes she was accused of a lofty manner. She 
was friendly with that nameless charm which constitutes 
a pleasing, fascinating person. She looked to he a per- 
son in perfect health, a trifle sunburnt, but having a 
complexion in which the rose and lily mingled, and her 


146 


ON- THE battery; 


head was adorned with a profusion of brown hair. The 
two shepherd dogs liked her, and escorted her hack and 
forth as only such dogs are capable of doing. There is 
no pleasanter company for a saunter off by one’s self than 
these intelligent animals make, watching one’s every mo- 
tion and trying to do the same : if one walks, they walk ; 
if one stops, they stop; and woe to any one who dare mo- 
lest the person whose duty it is theirs to protect. As the 
library was the favorite spot with everybody, they nat- 
urally gravitated there for books, for music, for pictures. 
And as Julia passed around, inspecting the pictures, her 
eye caught a sight of the Indian maiden, and she pointed 
to it, saying: ‘‘Where did you get that?” 

And Joseph asked her to guess. 

She ran over the list of painters familiar to her, but 
it was not their work. Said she : “ I never saw this 
before; buthow very beautiful she is! I like it so much.” 

As they continued their inspection the supper bell in- 
terrupted them, and this party of friends came together 
—this time without any outside guests. Mrs. Warner 
had taken her seat by the side of Mr. Eolfe, senior, and 
they occupied themselves with old occurrences, old ac- 
quaintances and subjects of mutual interest. He inquired 
if she had ever met in the city one of his old friends, 
whose wife had died, and who was in a melancholy state, 
having no one but a little boy, when he last saw him. 

She replied : “ Oh, yes, he was sick there, and so was 
his little son, but they both recovered. It was during 
the yellow-fever in 1819.” 

He continued: “Where did he go ?” 


OE, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


147 


“Well,” said she, “he said that he must go hack, that 
there were valuable interests for him to look after. I 
had become so attached to the child that it was a great 
trial to have him go away. I have never heard from 
them since.” 

Said he : “ There was a young man here this summer, 
who became acquainted with Joseph in a very singular 
manner, and who impressed me steadily that he was like 
some old friend of mine. I cast around in my mind 
who it could be, and after he had gone away I mentally 
identified him as the son of my old friend D — , but I 
did not, as I now regret, ask him about his father. I 
wish I had. It may be that he is the same one, grown 
up to manhood, and, if it is he, how I should like to see 
him again, and ask about his father.” 

She heard him through, but made no reply. She 
could not seem to get her mind on anything else, now 
that it had gone back so vividly to that bleak, desolate 
time in her life. But there was something cheerful in 
the idea which Mr. Rolfe presented. Ned might yet live, 
and, if what Mr. K — surmised was correct, he had been 
here. She might meet him again. But surely this must 
be a delusion. Mr. R — was nursing a phantom. If Mr. 
Rolfe had considered the sorrowful recollections which 
his questions would recall, in speaking of his friend, he 
would probably not have mentioned him at all, but 
now having invoked the associations of this dark time 
he regretted it, and he feared that this fancy of his would 
prove a mere hallucination. She struggled against the 
mournful mood which would have overpowered her, and 


148 


OIT THE battery; 


soon resumed her habitual cheerfulness. The young 
people were discussing pictures and painting, and telling 
how their brother Joseph had improved as an artist, 
when Julia exclaimed : Now I know who painted the 
picture of Pocahontas in the library !” 

All eyes were directed towards Joseph, and he looked 
very conscious. Those who have followed him in this 
narrative are convinced that he was a portrait painter, too. 

‘^Now,” continued she, ‘‘I am going to sit for my por- 
trait; will you paint it?” 

‘‘Oh! oh!” chimed in a chorus of voices, “he has no 
time now; he is busy working out a liability which he 
owes to somebody, and can’t take time to paint any one.” 

“You will see him. go off in the morning, to work at 
it,” observed Lucy. 

J oseph looked as though he would sink, but he man- 
aged to answer, “ That is finished.” 

J ulia was sitting next to him at table, and, in an under- 
tone evidently designed for her alone, he murmured: 
“The acceptance is all that remains.” 

It required all her self-control to prevent displaying 
confusion, as they had become the centre of all the 
glances around the table, and she only remarked that 
they all had her at a great disadvantage, for she had not 
been enlightened on the subject under discussion. 

Aunt Syley sat in her corner and chuckled. “Now 
dat is de chile dat ’ll find out ’bout dat li’bility, but how 
he got in dat li’bility ’s more ’plexin’ "dan dis ole woman 
knows.” But the biographer of these individuals re- 
members the dinner at Alfy’s that summer day. 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


149 


The young folks had now so mystified each other 
that, supper being done, they gladly dispersed to the 
usual places. In music and conversation passed the 
evening hours, and they early retired to their rooms. 
When Joseph was alone in his room, he threw himself 
into a chair, and sat long and refiected that he had not 
made a very brilliant move at the supper table, and won- 
dered what Julia thought of such a speech, and, after 
worrying himself some hours about it, finally decided 
that she must have put him on a level with some other 
empty-headed young men she had seen in her day. But 
she was not looking at the matter as he thought; he 
was, in her estimation, very far from being enipty-headed. 
She had a good opinion of his character and abilities. 
And in regard to what she was to accept, she was puz- 
zled exceedingly. Her ultimate inference was — for she 
was a sensible girl in everything — that it was some 
present for her. If* Joseph had asked lier to marry 
him, she would not have said no, for she liked him 
too well to do that, but she would have said, probably, 
that she did not expect ever to get married. And 
that would have been true, for she had not thought 
much about it, and when she had done so, matri- 
mony was in the distance — not close by. But an- 
other day would reveal what that present was, which 
‘^only awaited her acceptance.” With this comfortable 
adjustment of affairs, her night’s sleep promised to be 
undisturbed, letting the future take care of itself. 

With the faintest ray of light, Joseph was up, and softly 
went to the part of his own room where his work had 


150 


OK THE battery; 


been covered, and no one had obtained a view of it. It 
was in a large closet, and he carried the key of it. He 
now opened the door, and a good-sized frame, covered 
over with a white cloth, was all that could be seen. The 
cord was on it, exhibiting its destination, to be hung up, 
placed upon the wall. He raised it carefully, and, 
with noiseless footsteps, carried it out and took it down 
to the library, and suspended it beside the picture 
of the Indian maiden, upon the wall, and then sat 
down in a chair and awaited the coming of the right 
ones to see the unveiling. He had risen and was 
pacing the floor when his mother, with as silent tread 
as his own, entered the room. She came to him and 
kissed him again and again. 

‘‘ Mother, I’m glad that you’ve come ; tell me once more, 
mother, that you know I do not love you less,” said he. 

“No, Joseph, your mother’s place can never be taken 
by any other woman ; she will have her own place in 
your heart, and in one sense be a mother to you, too. 
But your ancestor, upon whose heart you laid a helpless 
babe — no other woman can be that to you. And now I 
know, my dear, why you asked me that day ‘if a young 
woman would refuse to marry a man if she did not like 
his great-great-great grandmother.’” 

“ Oh, mother, she likes the picture ; but what, what 
will she say to my being part Injun ?” 

“ If she only loves you, without knowing that your 
ancestor was a red woman, when she hears that fact, she 
will not see any more Injun about you than before.” 

“She may, though. I was passing the library that 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


151 


morning, you know the day I mean, and heard the 
merchant speak of the Indian maid. And I know that 
it was an invisible chain that he was tracing, of which 
he had a link in you and me.” 

But did he know our relationship to her ? ” 

Said he : “ Oh, no, I think not.” 

Mrs. Kolfe had asked Julia to meet her in the library 
as soon as she arose in the morning, and now at this 
moment, she came forward with blooming countenance. 
Mrs. Rolfe kissed her, and Joseph looked as though he 
would like to do so, too. But he simply inquired with 
great solicitude about her health, and then paused. 

Julia now said, “Your good mother asked me to join her 
in the library this morning, but I did not know I should 
have the pleasure of meeting you, too. Shall I withdraw ?” 

“ Oh, no, no,” said they both. 

She continued: “I only thought that I had come too 
soon, and would go back.” 

He was just on the verge of saying, “ You can never 
come too soon,” when he checked himself, and only 
uttered, what she could very plainly see, that they were 
only waiting for her. “And now we both wish to show 
you something; please look, as mother points, and 
behold the picture of my great-great-great grandmother.” 
As Mrs. Rolfe pointed at the picture of Pocahontas, Julia’s 
eyes twinkled, then grew moist, and then, instinctively, 
both of her hands went up to hold on her scalp. 

“ Oh, my ! why did you not tell me before ? ” said she. 
“ I feel as though I had been tomahawked.” Mother 
and son were very still. “ Well,” said she, “I love that 


m 


ON” THE battery; 


Injun maid’s picture, painted by one of her descendants.” 
Mother and son both felt a thrill of joy. 

‘‘ Now, may I show you what that descendant loves?” 
he said. “For one thing, he loves to pay his debts. 
“ Do you remember the philopena which you won, and I 
told you that I would pay it, and never have ? We 
ate it at your table.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said she, with a merry laugh, “ I do very 
well remember it.” And with the same quickness of 
the preceding evening, “Is that the debt that they 
were talking about last evening ? ” 

“ Oh, nobody but mother knew what they were talk- 
ing about last night; they did not know themselves. 
They have not seen it yet.” He arose, and gently drew 
aside the curtain, and there was her own portrait, true in 
every respect, even the blemishes. 

She clapped her hands, and cried, “Well done! It 
could not be a better likeness.” 

“Now,” said he, “it is your due that I apologize for giv- 
ing it to you here ; I should have taken it to your house, 
but as you were here, I thought I would redeem myself.” 

Said. she: “Who knew that you were an artist? I did 
not, until it flashed across my mind from the loving way 
you looked at Grandmother Po — there on the wall. But 
it was the love of the grandson, it seems, as well as the 
artist for his work. My, my 1 well, well ! I never dreamed, 
even, that you were of wild Indian blood. Did 5 "ou ever 
scalp any one ?” But now he looked hurt, and she re- 
gretfully said: “You must give me some time to get 
used to the idea ; it has come on me so suddenly — that 


OE, mildeed’s dishes. 


153 


war-daDces and flourishing hatchets are easier to think 
of than they were an hour ago.’’ 

Mrs. Eolfe said, in her sweet way, My dear, I am 
more Indian than he is ; are you afraid of us now ? ” 

And Julia rushed over and embraced Mrs. Rolfcj^ and 
kissed her once more. ‘‘No,” said she, “her children 
are descendants of a bright original in heaven ; you are 
no different from the rest of us that I can see. I am 
not afraid of you; we will all, perhaps, meet her when 
we go to the Great Spirit whom she loved.” 

They were all still now for some time, very still. 
And Mrs. Eolfe was the first to break the silence which 
had fallen upon them, with the intimation that she must 
go and attend to the house. After she had gone, a re- 
straint fell upon both of them, until he mustered courage 
to ask her what she thought of his speech last night ; 
was she angry? She replied that on the presumption 
of his having a present for her acceptance, she had rested 
the case, and now found that she was right. 

“ Yes, but only partly right. I said a while ago that I 
would show you what the descendant loved; he loves 
that picture (holding up his hand to her likeness), and 
he loves the original, or he could never have remem- 
bered every feature, and reproduced it upon the can- 
vas.” But, bethinking himself, he exclaimed, “ But oh, 
what am I doing now ? I am embarrassing you here. 
I should have waited until you were home, and then 
have told you; pardon me, and do not let it make you 
angry, because I have been so hasty, as to thrust upon 
you the information as to who my ancestor was, and 


154 


OK THE battery; 


showing you your picture here, when you did not look 
for it, or have the least intimation of its being here.” 

She saw that he was in real distress, and she could 
scarcely repress a smile at his upbraidings of himself. 
She replied: “Your course has been rather peculiar, but 
the circumstances are peculiar. I am not angry, far from 
it. Your patience and application do not deserve cen- 
sure, but rather commendation. I will try and make it 
as pleasant as I can while I stay here, which will not be 
long, and then you must come and see me at my home.” 

He was relieved now from the heavy pressure under 
which he had been weighed down, and laboring so long. 
And, with lighter spirits, it seemed as though he could 
fly. And he did fly, as well as he could without wings, 
and took her hand between his own, and kissed her 
cheek, upon whose semblance he had blended the lily 
and the rose, while he had hoped and feared that this 
happiness might be denied to him. “To think that I 
can say, ^ Dear Julia ! ’ now, to your own dear self. I said it 
to the picture many a time.” Again, he recalled himself 
to the position a visitor could claim, and said: “Now, if I 
seem distant or cold, at any time while you are here with 
us, remember that I do not feel so, but wish you to enjoy 
the full freedom of a guest without the least restraint. 
And when I become your guest, if you will let me, I 
shall not leave your side.” 

Approaching footsteps in the entry warned them of 
the call to breakfast they were disregarding. They were 
about the last to enter. The ceremonies of the table 
kept the questioners of the evening before employed for 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


155 


quite a while, and when the subject was resumed, they 
were referred to the library, where all required explana- 
tions would be entered into, and occular demonstration 
provided. The most eager ones requested to be excused 
as soon as possible, and gathered there, and were surprised 
beyond measure to see the new portrait hanging upon 
the wall; and, when Joseph made his appearance among 
them, inquired whether this was in any respect connected 
with his recent labors, and the cause of them ? 

AYhen he informed them of its being a philopena pay- 
ment, and that it was a present for Julia, if she would 
accept of it at his home, the young people remembered 
the philopena that day at Alfy’s, and thought that all 
owing them had scarcely paid them as nicely as Joseph 
had. Julia formally accepted it, and wanted it boxed up 
and sent home with them, when they went, for her 
parents would prize it very highly. ^ 

Mrs. Eolfe was examining the last package of letters, 
and found one from the exploring party in the new coun- 
try. It was read aloud for the benefit of all. They were 
Just going to gather nuts, but tarried to hear the news, 

Joseph was musing by the window, and turning around 
to Julia, said he : “ I feel as though, some time in the future, 
I should go to the new country, to purchase four or five 
mines, an inland sea, a prairie, a range of mountains, and 
some belts of timber. Some of our acquaintances can be 
induced to go there, and, in a favorable location, form a 
flourishing town. How would you like to go along?” 

She was not a little startled, and replied: “Are you 
not viewing this project through rose tints ? If those of 


156 


OK THE battery; 


US of whom you speak should go, how many of our scalps 
do you wish to have flourished before our cabin doors, 
with the war-whoop for our lullaby ? Frontier life has no 
charms for me. You would And that it would be full as 
easy for the Indian to scalp his fortieth cousin, whose 
veins contained diluted red blood, as the pale-face.” 

Said he : I have no wish to invite you to death and 
disaster, and I think that a large, strong party would 
not be disturbed.” 

“ Oh, well,” replied she, if you go to ‘ death and disas- 
ter,’ as you say, I can go along and see how you endure 
it. Perhaps the present inhabitants are gregarious, and 
wherever the pale-face appears, they will withdraw, and 
leave them undisturbed. That is the most comfortable 
disposition they can make of themselves, the settlers 
allowing them to have a part for their own use.” 

He continued: do not know that I shall go there, 

but there is immense wealth there, for those who want 
it. All there is to do is, for those who have the means 
already to go in and possess the land ; it can be pur- 
chased for so small a sum. If I only knew that when a 
lot of us have been there, and prepared for some com- 
fortable living, that you would not dislike the new coun- 
try, and go there with us, I should be glad.” 

She replied : You know that I have never explored 
new territory, nor traveled on mules’ backs, and donkeys’ 
backs — the only way of getting forward sometimes; just 
as like as not it would be what I would like, once in awhile. 
For instance, the mountains that you purchase, of course 
I should calculate to scale all of their peaks, to sail over 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


157 


the inland sea, and when the mines are opened, to pene- 
trate their depths. Oh, I think, to go on, and into those 
as the possessors of them, would lend a charm to frontier 
life. Pve read of the exploits of heroes and heroines in 
the wilderness, and shuddered ; but never was asked to 
be one before. Eeally it is something quite new.” 

The old folks had listened with close attention, and now 
thouglit they saw the way clear to congratulate them upon 
the opportunities for enterprise which lay before them, 
as the young people of this favored land, and desired 
them, if they went away, to not forget the old-home tree. 

Aunt Syley, in her old arm-chair, might have passed 
for deaf and blind. Some solicitudes she had been en- 
during on account of her boy were removed now, and 
as she expressed herself: ‘^Aunt Syley all wrong dat 
time. Her great-great-great grandma pooh white trash, 
mi, no ! De red man lub de puah white lilies. De red 
man lub her lily-faced an-ces-tors, wen dey stood wid de 
broad-brim hat an’ de drab dress, an’ tole him de truf, 
an’ neber do de red man any harm, neber gib him fire- 
water, to make him wilder dan eber. No, wen he meet 
de red man, he gib him de nice blankets, de purty beads, 
De red man neber git dat wool off de sheep, an’ spread it 
out into de nice blankets an’ let de sheep go away alive like 
de lily-face does. No, he takes all de skin off wid it, 
too. To keep dem white-faced people warm, dey has to 
kill nuffin’; dey can keep ebery ting all alive. Wen ole 
Aunt Syley ded an’ gone, Tom and Dick mus’ plant 
some white lilies ober her head ; dere was no lily in her 
face while she alive, but dey’ll wave dere petals, dere 


158 


ON- THE battery; 


stalks, dere roots, dere leaves, ober what was her pooh 
face, wen she’s gone. An’ now, jes see, las’ night and dis 
mornin’, how Massa Joe gave dat lily-face her present. 
Who eber heard of payin’ dat li’bility ob his’n in such a 
purty way? He gave her her own purty face. How, dis 
ole woman neber heard ob such a ting before. Wen he 
goes to dat purty city on dat purty islan’ for to lib, or 
she goes to dat great, wide country to climb de moun- 
tains, or to sail wid him in dat canoe, wen de sea is ca’m 
an’ de sky is blue, or she goes down into dem mines 
piled up wid gold, wid silver, wid iron, wid coal, den dis 
ole woman ’ill follow dem wid her mind until she drops 
de body down, an’ den she’ll go faster dan dey, an’ if 
dere is any hard places for dem, she’ll reach out her 
spirit han’ an’ skip dem ober it.” 

Every one was gone from the room, and Harry found 
himself alone in the library, and there he remained. The 
morning passed along, and he did not join the rest of the 
folks, and they searched up hill and down hill, hither and 
yonder, but they could not find him. As he looked at 
that central picture, now having learned its relation to 
Mr. Rolfe, he understood and saw very clearly why his first 
impressions upon seeing him that first time in his own 
home were of Indian sachems, chiefs and braves connect- 
ing themselves with him. But the continued absence of 
Harry was driving old Benhardt nearly distracted. For- 
tunately, Mrs. Morton was along with them this time, 
and he procured her assistance, and she, knowing 
Harry’s favorite haunts, very soon found him in his 
quiet retreat. 


OE, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


159 


CHAPTER VIL 

The Departure. — Finding the Man. — The Denouement. — 
Potter’s Clay. 


THE RETURH FROM MORELAl^D. 

The days fled all too rapidly, and the visitors must 
return to their homes. They had hunted on the wing, 
and on the feet; had gathered nuts for the fun of it, 
considering that they had a great plenty of them near 
home. They had explored the country on horseback, 
and had received serenades from Tom and Dick’s hand, 
and from the townspeople. Mrs. Morton and her family 
had been accustomed to traveling in their own vehicle 
to the springs, a good many miles away from their own 
home, and this pleasant excursion was equally enjoyed 
by them all. The merchant had been expected to join 
them before their visit was ended, but so far he had not 
made his trip extend as far as Moreland. They con- 
cluded to go on without him, and he would follow at 
his convenience, leaving their good wishes and an invir 
tation to come immediately to their house if he could. 

When their arrangements were complete for their return, 
Mrs. Morton bade farewell to old Aunt Sy, and said to 
her that her age connected the present with the rer 
mote and distant years, and in her experience she must 


IGO 


ON THE BA.TTERY; 


have seen the best and the worst of our people and the 
same of her own people ; that her memory was stored 
with incidents both pleasurable and distressful, and in 
view of all those whom she had known, now passed nway, 
in one sense she was probably never alone, and, in another 
sense, entirely alone, like the great tree over on the road 
side, which was there when the surrounding trees were 
seeds in the ground, little twigs starting up, and now 
large trees. Some have been cut down, some have blown 
down with the wind, and those which still stand never 
can overtake the old tree. 

“Yes, deah, your ole aunty waitin’ for de nex’ tor- 
nado ; wen it comes dis ole tree ’ill all break to pieces, hab 
no more shelter for any one, an’ eben now dat ole tree 
git shelter from de side hill. De hardest wind neber 
strike it yet ; wen it does, . den dat timber all gone at 
once. So in dis place ole Syley gits de shelter from de 
hillside, de shelter oh dat great Rock keeps dis ole woman 
from de rushin’ wind inside, an’ dese chillen ob de Lord 
keep ole Syley from de blitin’ wind outside dese many 
years. But some day, wen de lightnin’s come down, dat 
ole tree all gone.” 

Said Mrs. Morton: “Your people lie heavy upon your 
heart, I know. I, too, have heard their groans, their 
stripes; but, aunty, they are ransomed, and the ransom 
will be paid in God’s good time ; it’s the waiting time 
now, and if you and I never see that day, it is surely 
coming, coming. The ones you love will do their part, 
others will contribute to it, and the ransom will be 
nearer, nearer every year.” 



TEMPERANCE JUG. 

{See Pages 141 , 206 , 2071 . 









OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


161 


She had shed no tears since Pompey had gone, and 
left her and their child. That child had grown up and 
died, and left another one, and Tom and Dick were her 
great-grandchildren. Now, as she looked at Mrs. Mor- 
ton, the big tears once more rolled down her cheeks, and 
she said to her: ‘^Oh,dat ransom! dat ransom I You gib 
me jes’ like de light from heben! Dere’ll neber be any 
dark come any more in Aunt Syley’s mind. De blessed 
Lord go down into de blackness ob de grave to make it 
all light dere, an’ ransom’ us all from de darkness 
dere. An’ wen de white faces go down into de black- 
ness an’ de darkness ob de grave for de dark faces, den 
de ransom will be paid an’ de dark faces will be free.” 

Mrs. Morton was affected by the emotion of this aged 
person, and disposed to blame herself for having dis- 
turbed her. But Aunt Sy expressed herself that if 
she lived to be a thousand years old, she would always 
be so glad that she and the young people had come 
there, for there was a weight removed which she had 
carried alone, but now it seemed to be laid elsewhere. 
So the hopes of another we appropriate for our own, and 
it becomes the anchor of our soul, too ; not the heavy an- 
chor dragging us down, while we cling to it, in the broad 
ocean, but the anchor thrown overboard near land, which 
holds the ship sure and steady, and proves us to be in a 
safe harbor, and in no danger of drifting off to sea. 

When they were gone. Aunt Syley made a long white 
mark upon the woodwork in her room, and she never 
took it off. 

Old Benhardt gathered them all together, to see that 


162 


ON THE battery; 


everything was right before they started, and, after the 
adieus were spoken, the carriages rolled away. As they 
progressed, they enlarged upon the beauties of the way. 
They stopped at pleasant places to spend the night, and 
daily lessened the distance from their homes. They 
were overtaken by evening when a short intervening 
road would bring them to the next town. They had 
left the main road to go across. It was a clear, starlight 
night coming on, and, when the daylight was all gone, 
they halted and lighted the coach lamps. The young 
people were becoming sleepy, and tried to keep each 
other awake until they should reach the inn, and Ben- 
hardt exerted himself to amuse them with accounts of 
what took place, when he was of their age, in his own 
country, and talked himself into the place again, hearing 
the old familiar sounds and recalling those sights, until, 
eventually, he became so silent himself that Mrs. Mor- 
ton asked him if he were sure that he were awake him- 
self? When he answered her that he was, and never 
more so in his life. She remarked that she experienced 
a peculiar interest in this locality, and that in the morn- 
ing she wanted to tarry here awhile, and view the 
country. 

They were now coming up the main road again, 
and the lights trembled and twinkled in the dis- 
tance from old Wlieat Sheaf Inn windows, and from 
Nat’s lantern. And they were all hungry for the good 
supper awaiting them there. Just at this moment 
they were startled by a heavy groan, and a dark ol»ject 
passed before the horses and disappeared across the road. 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


163 


For tlie instant they thought that a hand of desperadoes 
was upon them. Benhardt and Harry reined up the 
horses, but nothing further presented itself, nothing 
further was heard. They turned the corner and stopped 
again. They were all of them alarmed, and almost afraid 
to investigate matters, and ascertain the origin of the 
groan, hut, in some hurried whispering, decided that to 
go on would be an act always lying heavy upon their 
minds, so they must not drive on and leave some one in 
distress, probably dying. Every one was in terror, and 
if the impulse to help the suffering had not been stronger 
in their dispositions than their fear, they would probably 
have hurried up the horses and driven to the town for 
safety. As it was, if any other dark objects had ap- 
peared, it is quite likely that they would have made 
their flight good while they could. Old Benhardt shiv- 
ered, but took the lamp down from the coach, and they 
followed him. Harry had his gun ready for service, and 
they hastened on. There was a fainter sound proceeded 
from the other side of the fence, and the light of the 
lamp, falling upon the ground, revealed the prostrate 
figure of a man lying upon his face, and bleeding pro- 
fusely. The house belonging with this land was close 
by. The directions for saving a person from bleeding 
to death, until a physician’s services can be secured, now 
came to mind, and Mrs. Morton helped them tie a string 
around each arm, just below the shoulder, and another 
one on each leg, just below the thigh. Benhardt said 
he’d watch by him if they’d all run over to the house and 
get some assistance, which they did. Tlie violent knock- 


1G4 


ON THE battery; 


ing upon the door, which they made, quickly brought a 
response. And when the people of the house saw so 
many faces, and heard what they told them — that some 
one was lying upon their premises probably dead, or 
near death, and that they must come at once to their re- 
lief — their astonishment knew no bounds, and they were 
inclined to regard it as a snare to entrap them ; but, at 
length, two stout men ventured, upon the supposition 
that what they said was true, and would allow of no 
delay, and they accordingly went with them, and sent 
another post-haste for a physician. And the men were 
brought to the scene of the tragedy. Old Benhardt had 
been trying to stanch the blood, had tied his handker- 
chief around the man’s head, and had turned him over, 
finding him not dead, but bleeding badly. His light 
hair was saturated with his blood, and Benhardt was 
rooted to the spot, and moaned out: “Oh, vat a pad 
ting dis is to do, to kill dis nice young man.” And all 
the time holding the lamp so as he could see his features. 

The two men helped him to lay the wounded man 
upon the carriage seat, and so they drove slowly over to 
the house, and very carefully ; then, laying him upon a 
bed, they brought a bowl of water, and old Benhardt 
washed the dirt and blood from his face, and looking 
at him steadily, in a sort of wailing tone continued 
to say: “Oh! he look like him! he look like him!” 
Which no one seemed disposed to deny. When it was 
done, Benhardt turned down the man’s shirt from his 
bosom, and there was a long, dark scar across three 
moles. At the sight of which he became paler, for his 


OE, mildeed’s dishes. 


165 


face had lost its color already, and he sank upon his 
knees, exclaiming: “Mine Got! mine Got! See vere 
dat sickle cut him ven he vas a leedle poy. Now, he’s 
ded! he’s ded! Oh, yy not poor ole Benhardt, too, to 
die pesides dat poy ? Oh ! de gray hair dat grow on dis 
head oh mine, senze de las’ dime I see dat poy ! I looked 
for you in de ole home, faderland, I looked for you on 
de ocean ; five dimes I go dere, dis vay an’ den dat vay, 
an’ I no find my poy. Den I search on dis land, night 
an’ day, an’ I not find him. An’ den I has to vork 
again, I spend so much money. But good Mr. and 
Mrs. Morton find me at last, an’ dey say to me, ‘ Com- 
vert, ole Benhardt, de goot Parent oh us all, some day 
put dat poy back into your arms vonce more, again, 
maybe.’ An’ I try to do for dere leetle vons vat T 
could not do for my own. An’ now, jusht as I git you 
pack into my arms, I find you ded. 0 Got in Himel, 
I dake him in my arms dis night, vonce more. Let him 
live again.” And throwing his arms to their full stretch, 
he cried : “ Come back ! Come back, oh. Max, my poy ! 
oh. Max, my poy! If you gone avay, dake me along, too, 
mit you vere you go. I can stay no more in dis hlace ! ” 
The man’s stupor seemed to be passing off, and he 
opened his eyes, and fixed them on the trembling figure 
of the old man. They opened wider, and wider, and 
then slowly closed again. The physician now entered 
the room, and began to examine the man. He found a 
severe gash behind the ear, and that he was unconscious 
from loss of blood, the blow having been a heavy one, 
and that he thought that likely his tarpaulin hat had 


166 


OK THE battery; 


saved his life, that he inferred that his head was cov- 
ered or the blow would have proved fatal, that there 
was a little piece of something in the wound, and if they 
found his hat it would prove what he said to be correct. 
That he must be a sailor, for his inside clothes were 
those of a sailor. Old Benhardt leaned on the bed and 
groaned. The physician told him that if his expres- 
sions of distress were so noisy, it would kill the injured 
man. And then he only sobbed, and made no more 
noise. Mrs. Morton approached the bed, and laid her 
hand lightly upon the forehead of the wounded person, 
when he heaved a deep sigh, but made no other sign of 
life. The bleeding was now checked, and, by the appli- 
cation of restoratives, he was rallying, when she softly 
passed behind the bed and stood out of the range of his 
sight, should he revive and open his eyes again. 

The family of the house were very kind and offered to 
do all the nursing, but old Benhardt crouched down 
upon the floor and no entreaties could move him. They 
brought him some food, of which he swallowed a little, 
and they could do nothing more with him. He said that 
when Max could speak, and he heard his voice once 
more, then he would go away. Mrs. Morton always re- 
sumed her place out of sight when she came into the 
room. 

The disconcerted wayfarers proposed that they all go 
over to the Inn, leaving some one to watch with Ben- 
hardt and his boy. But the family would not listen to 
it, and wanted them to stay there, but go and come as 
suited their pleasure, here, where circumstances had 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


167 


thrown them. Mrs. Warner sat so as the man could 
see her when he became conscious again, and if there 
were anything for Mrs. Morton to do, she would sign to 
her. In the course of an hour he revived somewhat, 
but said nothing. He was to he kept very quiet, and 
the physician said that he would leave him now, and 
come the following afternoon, and if there were no 
second bleeding, that he did not see any reason to ap- 
prehend a fatal termination. 

The town was aroused by what had occurred, and 
many came to view the scene where the man was at- 
tacked. Sure enough, there laid his tarpaulin hat, and 
a spade and a pick, the implements which he had been 
using. 

Among the first ones to view the spot, came Nat, who 
contended that the two men-actors at this place were, 
and must he, them ar’ fellers, who had been so plaguey 
hard to watch that, if they didn’t kill somebody else, 
they went at it, and killed thirselves.” He proposed that 
they scour the country for the scamp who got away. 
But with all their searching, he was not found. 

Upon the physician’s return the man opened his eyes 
and asked him where he was ? He replied that he was in 
a pleasant place, with friends ; that he had been hurt, hut 
would soon he better. And after a second examination, 
he found nothing new in the way of wounds, cuts or 
bruises, and that his condition at present was very fav- 
orable. On the second day he was quite revived, but 
excessively weakj and he told the physician that he had 
been asleep, and had dreamed that his father stood be- 


168 


ON THE battery; 


side him, but in an instant he had gone off in a cloud 
with a clap of thunder. Old Benhardt was behind the 
bed yet, in the same place, which nothing had induced 
him to leave; and hearing these words of his son, he 
nearly screamed again, but Mrs. Morton placed her hand 
upon his mouth to keep him still, and did not show 
herself, either, which fact the M. D. had noticed before, 
and its cause had been explained to him. 

“Well, my good man,^’ said he, “your father will 
come back with the next clap of thunder; and as soon 
as your hear it, then look for him again.” 

“ But,” said the man, “ I was afraid that he was dead.” 

“ Oh, I guess not, I know him very well ; he is alive 
yet, and I must send to him that you would like to see 
him, if that is so ?” 

“ Oh, yes ; could I see him this afternoon ? I am so 
tired, if I could see him once more, I could sleep so nice.” 

“ Poor fellow! Yes, you shall see him this afternoon.” 

Before the M. D. had left the room, the patient had 
fallen into a deep and quiet sleep. 

Old Benhardt counted the minutes until four o’clock, 
when his son awakened and wished for something to eat. 
Mrs. Warner brought him some nourishment, and when 
he had eaten it she mentioned that his father had called 
to see him ; and old Benhardt was ushered in. When 
he went up to the bed and took him up softly, pillows and 
all, and then laid him down so softly. They did not 
say many words, but father and son sobbed aloud. But 
Benhardt always expressed himself in language, some- 
how, and he said : “ Here in dis joyful dime I shed 


OE, mildeed’s dishes. 


169 


some tears. Vat you dink ob your poor ole fader, 
Max?’’ 

‘^He has grown gray, poor old father. I searched for 
you, father; why did you leave home so soon?” 

‘‘ Oh, it vas not soon, it seem to me such a long dime. 
Den I vent to search for you, an’ I find you now. Ven 
you git veil, you must dell me all about dat.” 

Now, Benhardt became his constant attendant, and he 
improved rapidly. When he was able to sit up and walk 
around again, Mrs. Morton came forward, with her chil- 
dren, and showed herself to him for the first time. 

‘‘Well, Max, I am glad to make the acquaintance of 
the late-lamented son of our good old Benhardt, and 
when he is entirely recovered, I want him to tell me 
about ‘Buster,’ whom he knew very well.” 

His face beamed with joy in seeing Mrs. Morton, and 
immediately changed to one of pain. And he exclaimed : 
“ Oh, just as I gain all, must I lose all, Mrs. Morton ?” 

“ No ; oh, no ! you will find it all again. Now, Max, we 
will help you all we can, and endeavor to have all the 
imputations of crimes and wrongs which 5^011 never com- 
mitted removed from you, and have you cleared entirely.” 

He continued: “I tried hard to do as you advised 
me, and to get away from those bad fellows, and that 
was what gave me what would have been my death, if 
you had not found me just as you did. Bill Pounce 
knew that I was determined to part company with 
them.” 

“Now, Max,” said she, “as you have talked enough 
about it, for your own good in your weak state, we will 


170 


ON THE battery; 


defer any more conversation until to-morrow. I feel 
very certain that you did not mean to do bad deeds 
yourself, or be with those who were doing them.” 

They had decided that Max would be able to go with 
them the next day, when they returned, if they took it 
by easy progress. 

The merchant had arrived at the Inn just after the 
occurrences which detained them, and hearing of the 
commotion, and being acquainted with the family with 
whom they were staying, he came over there and gave 
his letters of introduction to Mrs. Morton. She expressed 
their great pleasure at meeting him personally, although 
they felt acquainted with him through Joseph Eolfe. 
With regard to the occurrence in which they had figured, 
he said that some men had been noticed for a long time, 
and their movements speculated upon, in consequence 
of a continued and aimless digging, and now the suppo- 
sition was that these men were the same persons. He 
had been on the ground, and concluded that so much 
heavy work must have had a sufficient motive for con- 
tinuing it; but what they found to compensate for 
so much labor was not evident. Mrs. Warner ob- 
served that she had been with others to survey the 
scene, and the men had been exposing beds of very fine 
clay, which would be exceedingly valuable in the manu- 
facture of pottery; but that it was very obvious that 
that was not what they were searching for. Mrs. Mor- 
ton gave a vivid account of the finding of the wounded 
man, and the flight of his assailant, and they were con- 
vinced that he was the dark object which they saw upon 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


171 


the road. And now, the first intimation of her recog- 
nition of this person, communicated to any one, ex- 
cepting her own folks and the physician, was to him, 
that the man recovering was a man she had known 
upon a vessel whose crew mutinied, and by them this 
person was called “ Buster.” And she continued, 
“here now, more astonishing than all else, was old 
Benhardt recognizing him as his lost son Max.” 

The merchant inquired if he seemed to be a desperate 
character ? 

She replied, “ Oh, no ; far from that, he seems a fine, 
driving young person. And now that he has found his 
father, he is in a sort of ecstacy, not permitting him to 
go out of his sight, lest he disappear altogether. When 
he is strong enough he will tell us all about it, and, as 
mutinous crews are liable to arrest in these ports, we 
must help to clear him, as the crimes perpetrated on 
that vessel and in other places, by Bill Pounce, were not 
chargeable to him. Oh, yes, we can visit or write, and 
lay all the matters before the proper authorities, if those 
measures are necessary in his case, and so he will be 
prepared for the worst. His father is in a spasm of 
fear for him,” said she, “ and I have been trying to 
reassure him that it will turn out well, after all, and 
to rejoice now over the recovery of his son, and not to 
be troubled any more.” 

As Mrs. Morton continued to talk, the merchant re- 
garded her with increasing attention, and, at last, 
arising, and coming forward, asked her if she had for- 
gotten Ned, the trader’s son, on the brig “Marque.” 


172 


OK THE battery; 


She replied, by taking his outstretched hand, and 
said : ‘‘ Ever since I first saw you, when you came among 
us, my thoughts have been revolving around that fated 
vessel. And Fve thought of Ned, but he was only a 
stripling then, and now you are a tall, stout man. But 
I remember you very well, indeed. And what of your 
father ? 

They now both sank back into their chairs, as the 
terrible scenes rushed back into their memories more 
distinctly every moment. 

‘‘ I never saw my father after that dreadful night. He 
was lost. Oh ! was Mr. Morton among the lost, too ? ” 

“ No ; we escaped,” she replied. 

Mrs. Warner became bewildered now, and brought 
the smelling-bottle for Mrs. Morton. But why did she 
shake, and have to breathe hard, and use the smelling- 
bottle herself? Somehow, these two persons were 
making her tremble so, that she went out of the room, 
and sat down in the breeze to get revived, but she con- 
tinued to feel so badly, that old Benhardt left his son, and 
helped her up to her bed, where she lost consciousness 
entirely. She had been interested in Max, and so 
devoted to his comfort, that it had drawn upon her 
strength and overtaxed her completely ; so this excite- 
ment now overcame her, she could bear no more. 
Little Meemee had been playing with her dolls there, 
and seeing Mrs. Warner so still and pale, told Benhardt 
‘‘ to run for her mother, for Harry, Davy, for every- 
body ” ; which he lost no time in doing. 

Mrs. Morton, hearing of Mrs. Warner’s sudden illness. 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


173 


came up and chafed her hands and feet, when she 
found that it was only a faint spell. 

Her first words were: Oh! it must be, dear, that he 
is my Ned, too!” 

Who — the merchant ? ” 

‘‘Yes, dear; didn’t you hear him say that his father 
was a trader ? It’s my own little Ned, whom I took 
from the grave’s mouth. Tell him to come up here, and 
see his foster-mother once more.” 

He was standing at the foot of the stairs in great per- 
plexity, and went up two steps at a time. Said he: 
“ Are you good Mrs. Warner, who nursed father and 
little Ned, when the fever was in the city, and they were 
sick with it ? ” 

“ Yes, my dear child,” she replied, “I did not wish to 
run away from you, at the precious moment of seeing 
you again ; but I am getting old, and the recollections 
of that dark time, when the light of my life went out, 
overcomes me yet, and proves that I am a poor worm of 
the dust, that I am only waiting for the light of 
eternity.” 

Said he: “Now I have found you, you shall he my 
mother, indeed, and Davy shall be my younger brother.” 
And he kissed her cheek tenderly, reverently, and 
raised up the arms which had carried him so many 
times, and placed them about his neck. And, in the joy 
of knowing that he was alive, and her own good boy 
yet, she shed tears of relief. 

Davy, now agitated, came into the room, so alarmed 
for his grandmother that his very knees trembled, and 


174 


ON THE battery; 


he stood riveted to the spot, when the merchant took 
his hand, and informed him that he was his grandmoth- 
er’s old Ned, come back to her and to him. And Davy 
set np a lamentation, that if she were very, very sick, and 
going to die, he would not wish to live any longer. But 
^ she arose, and was able to go down with them. 

They celebrated the health of all the persons con- 
cerned, and called upon Ned for his story. Before 
which recital was commenced, Mrs. Morton stated that 
there were in her possession some documents, of which 
she believed him to be the rightful owner, and when they 
returned she would give them to him; and, if they were 
his, of which she had no doubt, as she had preserved 
them with the greatest care, and if there were no mis- 
take, then this neighborhood would become more inter- 
esting to him, yes, and to them, than it had ever been 
before. 

He replied : Do you think that I am the person ? 
“ Well, I will relate some of my experiences.” 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


U5 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Ned’s Story. — Nat witli the Bag. — Beiihardt’s Letter.— Answer 
to Benhardt’s Letter. — 'I’he Pottery. — Tlie Letter of Sir 
Francis Drake. — Alfy and tlie Fire. — Mrs. Lewis in the 
Log-house. — The Pledge. — Shri nes. 

NED ACROSS THE GULP. 

After our recovery from the fever, we found it hard 
to leave our friends in the city, especially my dear foster- 
mother there, but father found it necessary to pursue 
his voyages, they were many and profitable. I was his 
constant companion, and we had numerous adventures. 
We were in wild storms, when it was scarcely possible 
for the vessel to survive the tempest ; were in dangers 
from robbers, but always escaped, until the last time we 
crossed the Gulf of Mexico, with other passengers, from 
one city to another. Owing to some haste, the crew we 
had were picked up without much regard to qualifica- 
tions, the time afforded to get them was so limited, that 
those who offered were taken, and they proved to be a bad 
lot of fellows. Father had been in the habit of coming 
back every summer to look after property in which he 
was interested, and was about starting to return north 


176 


ON THE battery; 


again. When I first recollect father, he was a trader to 
Barbadoes. He always said that I would be very 
wealthy, but, after his death, there was nothing there 
which his friends could find for me. So I was poor, but 
met the help and sympathy of some excellent people, and 
I have toiled along, and worked myself, and made an 
honest living. It was very hard for a little fellow 
like I was, but the Parent of the orphan has kept me so 
far. My mind wanders some, and, if I do not speak 
connectedly, you will know that it is to be attributed to 
the revival of painful scenes.- Father had been in the 
habit of putting all his valuable property down there 
into clusters of diamonds, because they were so easy to 
carry, and very easy to conceal. He had a small, iron 
box made, and, as fast as money could be converted into 
those of suitable size, he would add them to the box, 
which he concealed in his clothing. He had just added 
the fortieth cluster of them to the box, which, also, he 
said, contained valuable memoranda, which directed 
where other things were. When the crew mutinied, they 
were led by one Bill Pounce, a desperate character, a 
foreigner, and as he said, ‘ he was born upon the water, 
and he designed to farm it (that is, the sea), for his 
living, by hook or by crook. He was a dark, ill-favored 
man. There was a person among them, a young man of 
German descent, who had been mixed up with them 
somehow, and was in real trouble ovdr their black 
designs, but they would have murdered him, if he did 
not do as they told him to do. Their design was, after 
robbing all the passengers, to burn the brig. Their 


OH, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


177 


arrangements were all made, they had secured the 
plunder from the passengers, including father. Buster, 
that young man whom I mention, had told father of 
what the crew were going to do, but we were all help- 
less, to a certain extent. But then, one of the severest 
.storms of the season set in, and it was likely that all of 
us would perish in it ; and, when the mast was broken 
away, and the vessel at the mercy of the waves, the mu- 
tineers concluded if it subsided, to take the boats them- 
selves, and leave us to our fate on the wreck. I never 
saw father after that terrible night ; he was lost over- 
board. No one thought that we would be saved; but 
after drifting back and forth for two days, we were dis- 
covered by two passing vessels and taken off, some of us 
on one, and some on the other vessel. That’s the way, 
Mrs. Morton, that we were separated so suddenly.” 

Yes,” she replied, ^^you are correct.” 

‘‘ I have, had a horror of sea-faring life since that 
awful storm,” he continued, since my father was torn 
from me, and I have been on the land. But the feel- 
ing I have had so strong is weakening some, and, after 
all, I long to re-visit our old haunts again. My health 
was shattered for a long time, but the pursuits in 
which I have engaged on land have been the means of 
my restoration to health. Now, if I go there again, 
where we were, I might hear something of hither. 
Mother died when I was quite a little child; I just 
remember her death. But now, since I have found 
you, Mrs. Warner, you bind me to you by the bonds 
of gratitude, the bonds of love, as your foster-son.” 


178 


Ol^- THE battery; 


She said for him to go and revisit those old scenes 
again, if he would like to do so, and take Davy and 
her along with him when he went. 

Max was sitting hy the window, with his father by 
him, and his countenance showed the greatest trouble, 
for he did not know whether the new comer, Ned, was 
aware of his identity with “Buster” or not. 

But Benhardt could not repress his feelings, and gave 
vent to them in the manner following : “ Goot sir, did 
you eber dink dat my poy vas among dem pad rascals ?” 

“Well, my friend,” he replied, “I think that ‘Buster^ 
and Max were one and the same individual. He will 
not deny it, I am sure.” 

“Oh, no, sir!” said Max, “didn’t I know you the 
minute I saw you?” 

And Benhardt rose and walked the floor, and in 
pity they began to pacify him. 

Said Ned: “I will testify to his unwillingness to 
injure any of us, and that it was the others, not he, 
who committed the robbery.” This cheered him, and 
he became more resigned.. “Now, Max,” said Ned, 
“tell us what became of you in the boats?” 

“We landed safely the next day; we were quite near 
the shore when we abandoned the wreck.” He con- 
tinued: “Bill Pounce had the iron box, and he 
divided the diamonds, half for himself, and half for 
me, as he said, and sold one of mine to get money to 
pay the expenses of coming and searching for what we 
found described upon a paper in the iron box. Here 
is the paper,” said he, producing it. 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


179 


Mrs. Morton looked at it, and said that it corre- 
sponded, partly, with a description she had seen before. 

Max continued : “ If any one will go to the Inn, I 
think that the diamonds can all be recovered, for we 
left them in a bag in the corner of the room there, 
and I think Bill would not dare to go back that night 
to get them. I put that piece of paper in my pocket 
that night so as to have the directions of the ground.” 

Mrs. Warner now inquired: “What were you turn- 
ing up pot-bakers’ clay for so incessantly? Did you 
think of setting up the business?” 

“No, ma’am,” said he, “we were searching for what 
it says on that paper — ‘My Son’s Treasure.’ We were 
searching for gold and more diamonds.” 

Said she: “Did you think that they were buried at 
the ‘Wild Pear-tree,’ the ‘Pile of Stones,’ and ‘the Cor- 
ner of Greenfield Common ?’ ” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” he replied. 

Here every one burst into a loud laugh, but Max 
looked so doleful that they stopped it. 

Said he: “Please tell me what can be done to clear 
me from this mutiny. When I went in among that 
crew I hadn’t the least idea of doing anything but taking 
the vessel across the Gulf.” 

Said Mrs. Morton: “There have been efforts made to 
capture that crew, and, of course, there will be no safety 
for you. You must seek out those who would naturally 
have the case come before them, and state your case and 
present your cause. Benhardt,” she continued, “a 
feasilde plan is for you to write to headquarters, to the 


180 


OIT THE battery; 


chief of the Navy Department, and we will accompany 
your plea with ours; do this immediately, and you will 
get advice how to proceed in 'securing his safety.” 

Benhardt grasped this project of relief, and, without a 
moment’s loss of time, searched for pen and paper and 
ink, which he found, and proceeded to present his 
cause. Harry now came in and said that Nat was at 
the door, with a bag for one of his hotel boarders. Max 
had not seen Nat since that evening when he was light- 
ing the lantern. Nat came forward and addressed him. 

Well, mister. I’ve got a little bill against you two 
fellers, and, since he’s gone up the gum-tree, you’ll have 
to pay for both. He’s gone and left this ’ere bag. I 
had a great notion to bust it open, but didn’t.” 

“ Now,” said Benhardt, “ you young Mr. Nat, you pring 
in your pill to Max’s fader, ole Benhardt, an’ I’ll bay 
you ebery sent.” 

And Nat returned him answer: “Much obleeged to 
you, sir; the lan’lo^d ’ll be glad to see you any time. 
But here’s this ’ere bag, I say.” 

No one moved to take the bag, a sort of uncertainty 
as to who should move in the matter, affecting all 
their minds, when they began to suggest the mer- 
chant, Ned, as the proper person to receive it, and 
he was told to go and take his property, which he 
did; and he opened it, and there, sure enough, was 
the iron box, and opening the box the flashing colors 
attested the presence of the brilliants. Upon examin- 
ation it was proved that all of those which had been 
taken from the trader, with the exception of the one 


OE, mildeed’s dishes. 


181 


Max had spoken of as sold, were there, and among them 
was a diamond hreast-pin of Mrs. Morton’s. Max said 
that Bill was a sort of a miser, and whatever he got 
he always kept, and he had lots of other valuables which 
he had stolen. But he had made a habit of carrying 
these around with him, and he must have been so afraid 
of pursuit that, on that night, he did not dare to return 
to the Inn, for he knew that Nat was watching him. 

Benhardt had now written out a plea, as advocate for 
his son, and he could have had no better one for this sim- 
ple process. His ingenuous goodness was likely to prevail, 
the circumstances all taken into consideration. 

OLD BENHAEDT’S LETTEE ABOUT HIS SOU. 

To de Secretary oh de Navy: 

Honorable Gendleman — Bear Sir: If you are de gendlenian 
vat lias all de knowledge apoud de sailors, den 1 vould like to 
sbeak to you, if you be so goot, apoud my poy. He vas my own 
leedle poy, vat his mnder lobe so much, dat she neber hab no 
cornvert if lie vas oud de blace vhere she could see him all de 
dime. But pirne-py dat goot vonian close her eyes to all dings 
in dis vorlt, sayin’ to me, “Bake care ob Max.” An’ den dere vas 
nopody but poor me to dake de care an’ de vatch ob dat leedle 
poy. I dake care ob him so goot as I could ; I dake him vid me 
to my vork — an’ he lobed his fader, too, an’’ stay py me, a real 
goot poy. But somedimes de vild poys, vich go down to de shibs, 
dry to dake him from me avay, an’ say : “ Come, Max, vid us, an* 
leabe dat foolish ole man behind ; he neber let you see de vorlt — 
all de dime in dis von blace.” But Max alvays say to deni pad 
poys: “You go avay, now.” But ven he vas grown pigger, he 
say : “ I must do somedings for my libin’, too. now, an’ not hab 
you vork for me all de dime.” So I say, “Vat vill you do?” 


182 


ON THE battery; 


An’ he says to me : “ Fader, let me go to de sea, now I am old 
enough.” So all de dime I see dat he like de vater so much, but 
den I could not say dat he could go, for a long vhile. But he could 
not vork any more, an’ vas not veil ! Aii’ I say, “Yell, Max, may- 
pe you pe petter if you go ; but come pack so soon as you can.” 
An’ he says dat he vould. Yen he peen gone a long dime, I hear 
dat dein vild poys go shust vere he go, an’ den I say, “ Oh, my ! 
Oh, my! dey make drouple for my poy. So I go to find him, an’ 
1 neber see him ho more, nor hear vere he vas. An’ I search von 
year, two years ; an’ eber senze den 1 vatch for him, but neber 
find him again, dill 1 dake him up in my arms on dat cold ground 1 

An’ ven he can sbeak vonce more, he say dat dem vild poys, 
ven dey hear dat he go to sea, dey follow him, an’ he could not 
keep dem off. An’ he did not know vat dey vere doin’ ven dey 
vent on dat voyage, ven dey dook the shib; but he dink dat if 
dey go get so much money as dey say, den he can keep me vith- 
out more vork ven he find me in Amerikee, for he look for me, 
too. If I stay at home, he find me long pefore. But, oh, dat 
Bill Pounce! he struck my poy, an’ left him for ded ; an’ he vas 
in such great hurry to get avay dat he forgot to dake de diamonds 
vich my poy have py him. ’an here dey all are but von, vich vas 
sold, an’ de money help dem vild poys, as veil as my poy. An’ I 
find him in his blood. Blease do somedings apoud dis, so as I 
keep my poy. Yours, vhile I vait. 

From his ole fader, 

Benhardt. 

The letter went on its way and, in due course of time, 
he received the following reply. 

THE ANSWER TO OLD BENHARDT^S LETTER. 

My Good Friend Mr. Benhardt : I received your letter re- 
specting your son’s case, and would say to you that the best way 
in which I can “do something” for you is to do nothing about 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


183 


him. And you may keep your son Max, as there will, in this in- 
stance, be no charges made against him, there being no witnesses 
to confront him. But the safer course will be for him to put in 
evidence against them, especially against the one who made an 
assault upon his life ; and he may then, at any time, be evidence 
himself. I am in receipt of letters from your best friends, and 
now make your mind easy, poor old father, aiid may heaven make 
your son worthy of you. 

I am, sincerely yours, 

Sec’t’y of Navy. 

Max’s matters were thus adjusted, all the necessary 
steps being taken to provide for every emergency. 

And now this stage of proceedings brings them to 
what resulted in the establishment of 

THE POTTERY. 

The returning friends were welcomed upon their ad- 
vent, and Ned divided his time between Davy’s and 
Harry’s, delighted to have found a home at last. Mrs. 
Morton, agreeably to her purpose, had all hands called 
around her table, and she said as the time had come to 
which she had been looking forward so long, they would 
all be interested in seeing some papers which she thought 
belonged to the merchant, Ned. And she went to the 
old secretaire in the corner, and opened the drawer and 
brought out an old parchment, and spread it upon the 
table. Ned, with eager looks, examined it, as Mrs. Mor- 
ton selected the points of similarity with the memoranda 
which had been preserved, and which was laid by the 
old paper. And, sure enough, the will bore the name of 
Ned’s grandmother, who had bequeathed all of her 


184- 


ON" THE battery; 


possessions to Ned’s father; and Ned now was sole heir 
to all his estates. 

He now observed: ^^You see, after all, what father said 
was true. Oh, how I wish he were here to enjoy it with 
me.” 

Mrs. Morton now brought from the same drawer an- 
other paper, saying: ‘‘Here is something else for you,” 
handing him a copy of an old letter, dingy, swarthy 
with age; and it bore the superscription: “To her 
Eoyal Highness, the most Gracious Sovereign of En- 
gland,” and ran in manner following. 

LETTER OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

Pacific Ocean, A. D. 1577. 
Most Gracious Sovereign of Britain, and the Seas: 

Our ship “Vesuvius” liutli been suiTountlin" tlie ex- 

tremity of the American continent, that region of tire-land. May 
it please your majesty, it would be most suitable to name it 
“Land of Fire,” for it belcheth forth flame and smoke, and that 
continually. The “Vesuvius ” ran between two sidings of land 
on either hand of lier. 'these straits are notable lor being in an 
outlandish quarter of the globe, ‘and were it not for the ocean fur- 
ther on, I fain would keep our good ship in more respectable 
parts ; but the sea beyond must float the flag of Britain from one 
end to the other end thereof, and we shall come and cast our 
trophies before our royal queen, not till then. And so far as this 
day, the monstrous savages in these parts have had no chance 
to pick our British bones; we give them good arm’s length 
between us. 

Later. — W^e left Queen Adelaide’s Archipelago after passing 
through the straits, and sailed up the coast of Cliili and Peru. 
If you would like these countries, and so command, the“Vesu- 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


185 


vius ” will visit them again. But further on, just above the tropic 
of Cancer, lyeth a goodly land, a large portion of which juttetli out 
into the water ; and the “Vesuvius” hath coasted it on the east, 
where seemeth to be a gulph, and on tlie west lyeth the open sea 
again. From this cape below Cancer we cruised on up to the 
north. 'J'he laud is good enough, even for our good queen. 
We entered one fine bay on this coast. Were it not that it is 
here such an end of the earth, it would be profitable for your 
majesty to form here a settlement ; it would make a fine station 
from which to sweep the Pacific. Commerce from this region 
would be so slow and tedious in making Britain, that I bethink 
nothing would pay your majesty’s packets but gold, silver and 
precious stones, and they at the risk of j^riv'^ateers. 'I’his country 
hath a sort of backbone, along from the land of fire up to this 
point, a prolonged chain of mountains which setteth back from 
the coast; and it may yet appear that very precious articles may 
be found in this land, to repay whom it pleaseth to disembowel 
them. 'J’he ship hath cruised so far as this cape — Point St. George 
— and I take possession, from twenty-one to forty-two north lati- 
tude, of all this land, in the name of Elizabeth, Queen of Great 
Britain, to have and to hold, as she doth think best. If your 
niajesty hath any orders to transmit, send them so as I shall have 
opportunity to receive them at St. Augustine, or the West Indies, 
when I cruise again in the Atlantic waters. 

From your obedient servant, Francis Drake, 

Mariner on the “ Vesuviusy 

Whether this letter is a genuine Sir Francis’ letter, 
or not, this narrative is not supposed to know. But if 
Ned was satisfied with it as such then, this biographer 
is, also, now. Upon the conclusion of the reading of 
this paper, the merchant said: “Well, has it come to 
this — my grandmother’s will and my sailor ancestors 


186 


ON THE BA.TTERY; 


letter, both saved for me? Good, kind Mrs. Morton! 
How shall I ever repay, ever thank you ?” 

And she replied : ‘‘ Bless the memory of the dead, who 
were the careful custodians of these valuables, always on 
the search for their owner, to deliver them to themselves 
or their heirs.” And she still remarked: “How strange 
it seems that all of these persons interested in the pre- 
servation and restoration were shipwrecked together. 
Yet here are the valuables, and here is the owner!” 

Mrs. Morton was rejoiced to commit her trust, so long 
held, to the right person, and she said: “In conveying 
these to you, I wish you long years, and good health and 
prosperity, to enjoy your possessions, for you perceive 
you are not poor, as you said you were,” and grasped 
his band once more as she said it. Her son and 
daughters had been reading of Sir Francis and his 
great exploits, his skill as one of the captains in the 
squadron which dispersed, more probably by his fire- 
ships in the squadron, than any other of their ma- 
noeuvres, the “Invincible Armada” of Spain; which, if 
it had been successful in subjugating England, would 
have been a black cloud enshrouding the religious pros- 
pects of that country, whose gloom our keenest penetra- 
tion cannot say would have had any rift; and, also, of 
his wonderful doings on this hemisphere, and how his 
ships were made from the big white oak-trees of England. 
And here now, in view of all this, they were standing 
face to face with his lineal descendant, real flesh and 
blood. This was startling for the moment. But, while 
all the young people with them were holding a subdued 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


187 


inspection of this Teritable presence, a young man of 
whom Sir Francis would be proud, if he were there to 
express his feelings — he would probably have had the 
desire to put him afloat again, with him, on his own good 
ship — the subject of their cogitations, plain Mr. Edwin 
Drake, disturbed their silence byremarking: “Was it 
any wonder that Queen Elizabeth made this bold mari- 
ner a knight of her realm? No, indeed! Sir Francis 
Drake did more to found the naval power of England 
than any other of her heroes.” He still continued: 
“ But of all of his public deeds, on land or water, the 
most beneficent was the provision of bringing the clear, 
cool fresh-water from the hills, a distance of eight miles, 
and, in an ever-flowing stream, supplying his native 
place with this great boon, for the poorest of God’s little 
ones, or even the proudest of earth’s mortals.” 

Upon consultation with Mrs. Morton and others, ho 
learned that the people upon this Greenfield property 
held it by lease, and had done so for fifteen years. The 
ostensible owners, when pressed to do so, could not pro- 
duce any proper title to the place, and the lease was 
about run out. And no valid claims being sustained by 
any one, it was all free to him to do as he pleased, if he 
could prove his ownership, which he immediately did, 
and Ned was undisturbed in taking possession. Mrs. 
Warner’s advice to him was to set up and commence 
the manufacture of pottery from the beds of clay 
which had been disclosed in such a singular manner. 
And he acted upon her advice. Max, with the enthusi- 
asm of his nature, wanted to begin without delay. He 


188 


ON THE battery; 


was familiar with the work in his own land, and even 
old Benhardt had done the rough work in his own coun- 
try, in a manufactory for some years. And Ned took 
Max into his employment, and he proved himself to be 
a splendid workman. And Davy’s scheme, his perpetual 
vision, now blossomed into reality. He decorated the 
ware with all the fruit, flowers and scenery on the cal- 
endar, calling each flower for every day in the year. And 
Max, in honor of his preservation from death at the hands 
of an assassin, when not very busy with other things, 
immortalized his old tarpaulin hat in jars, moulding the 
clay in the pattern of that relic ; and then Davy would 
spread his old idea over them, making them radiant with 
black hollyhocks, copper-colored marsh-mallows, and 
other gorgeous flowers. It cannot be denied that they 
were grotesque, but they embodied the thought, the 
events of the past, and were as good in their way as some 
of the other American scenery put upon plastic clay by 
David’s father, long before. And after inspecting the 
field of operations repeatedly, Davy was wont to say that 
they had material enough to last a thousand years. 

But this narrative has got into the perspective. In 
bringing it into the regular occurrences, it finds these 
persons just concluding the examination of the old 
papers at Mrs. Morton’s; and when they had finished, for 
the time, David and his grandmother went to their own 
home. And Mrs. Warner found that her remittances 
from the property belonging to Davy and to her, were to 
be regular again, removing all anxiety from their minds. 
They had prepared themselves for poverty, but it did 


OE, mildkeb’s dishes. 


189 


not come upon them. And Davy once more deposited 
a sum in his bank, and then brought it to his grand- 
mother, to open and see what ifc contained. 

She took it into her hands, and realizing all the 
efforts which Davy had made to assist her, as well as 
to support himself, she laid her hand upon his head, and 
said ‘‘ I have not been living for myself, but for you, 
my own dear child, and as long as life lasts it will be for 
you ; for there has been no hour of your being, when 
you did not go freighted with all my hopes.” 

As she paused, said he : “ There’s more in there than 
I thought; let’s give the rest to somebody who needs it.” 

And now she drew it apart, and, upon the top of the 
money, lay a folded piece of paper, and in his writing 
upon it, were these words : David never will grow old, 
and will not need this money. It’s to pay the mortgage 
upon our house, so as when grandma is done with it, 
and leaves it to somebody else, there will not be any 
debt upon it.” She read it through, and the tears 
sprung to her eyes, and it was some time before she 
could see to count the money. But when she did, there 
was a good sum over what was required for the purpose 
designated. Oh, for how many purposes have children’s 
jug-banks been filled, been broken ; but in the breaking, 
some one was benefited ; some one heard, and received, 
word and assistance from the poor little institution, if 
only a few pennies. It is the expression of a pleasant 
out-going thought, a wish to do some one good. And 
after all, poor Davy’s bank worded the fact, that he was 
not hoarding money for its own sake, but to do some 


190 


OK THE battery; 


one good. The old head upon his shoulders was only 
a little the start of time, and, if age did precipitate itself 
upon him, it found that he had not grown old, after all. 

Mrs. Warner lived through nearly a century, and 
toward the last of her life, her memory became impaired 
somewhat, so that the continuity of her thought was 
gone temporarily, and, although remembering every- 
body and everything, still their succession was broken. 
And when the brother and his sisters, in after years suc- 
ceeding this narrative, visited her, she would ask them 
how their children were ? ” And they would answer her 
just as they knew that their mother would have done 
about hers, for they knew that she was thinking of their 
mother. And then she would marshal out their grand- 
mother at the next breath, and speak of her as their 
mother ; so it was very difficult sometimes to keep from 
laughing at the dear old lady’s mistakes. But when 
they prolonged their visit, she would recover their iden- 
tity, and have the generations all in the order of their 
years once more. And she maintained, that Ned and 
Davy were as near perfection as any two persons of their 
age and experience could be. The crossing of mortals’ 
pathways sometimes is pleasurable, sometimes far from 
that. In this narrative they are mingled. 

Mr. Eolfe, senior, found that he had not cherished a 
phantom,” that Ned was the son of his old friend. 

Ellen, without whose story, of a remarkable display 
of skill in one department of human labor, this biog- 
rapher would be in a quandary, as both sides of a 
subject should always be heard, was cousin to those 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


191 


good people who lived upon the property of Ned so 
long, and who were the good Samaritans to Max and 
his father. And she became a resident in Greenfield, 
and Ned and she lived to see their own children, and 
among their descendants were some who, in 1849, went 
to the land of gold, located by their ancestor. Sir. F. D— 

And what of Max, Benhardt’s poy,” as he loved to call 
him ? When he was busiest, sometimes the pursuit of 
“ My Son’s Treasure,” would come over him with such 
force that he could not proceed with his work, until the 
revolution of all the circumstances was performed once 
more in his mind, and he saw again how the bootless 
digging had developed one great idea, which was this : 
that “My Children’s Treasure,” which they need for 
time, lies in the bosom of the bounteous earth. 

The persons in this review pass, like the ghosts in 
Aunt Syley’s vision. It was Alfy, who went to that wild 
country, and, like his predecessor, William Penn, by the 
arts of peace, won on every hand ; and the passer through 
some of the towns knew that he started them. 

Before Alfy is left to himself and his subsequent ex- 
periences, he returns from Harry’s, where he has been 
spending a few days. The winter was one of intense 
severity. The accommodations for going from place 
to place, were now assuming new form. Steam-cars 
were just beginning to run upon rails, conveying pas- 
sengers with the same rapidity upon the land that the 
steamboats had upon the water. Harry’s father had 
toiled long and arduously, to have that convenient loco- 
motion secured for the residents of the respective places ; 


192 


ON THE battery; 


and now they were making their first trips. But Mr. 
Morton had not lived to see the accomplishment of the 
scheme, as it was now, almost annihilating the distance, 
so that old Benhardt would not be obliged to hitch up the 
wagon again, unless they all preferred that mode of lo- 
comotion. And when, in this bitterly cold season, Alf 
turned his face homeward, he entered the cars, and 
slipped along with them. His father was a fireman, and 
every night, when he sought the repose of sleep, he laid 
all his clothing, with his boots uppermost, with the 
greatest precision at the head of his bed, so that, with 
an instant’s warning, he could reach them and equip 
himself for speedy service. There had been several 
alarms within the week, and he had expended his 
strength in that harassing service already. He was 
repeatedly urged to give it up ; to let the department 
take care of itself; that he was getting too old ‘Ho run 
with fire-engines”; — and more to the same effect. To all 
of which he turned a deaf ear, only saying, “ Some one 
must go, and I shall do so while I am able.” And so 
the battles with that wandering element he continued. 

Alfy perceived that his father was nearly worn out, 
when he joined them again ; and finding this state of 
things there, he threatened to immediately attach him- 
self to the company, and take his place as a substitute, 
but his father smiled, and said that it would be effort 
entirely misdirected, for the instincts of the veteran 
fireman would bring him there, if he had only one leg 
upon which to go. And, at nine o’clock on Wednesday, 
December 16th, there came another cry of “Fire!” and. 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


193 


with the same alacrity as ever, he rushed again to the 
spot. And this time it was no mere alarm, but 
“ Fire ! man’s safeguard and liis slaughter, 

Fire, Creation’s first-born daughter, 

And Destruction’s threatened son. 

When heaven with the world has done,” 

had begun her — his — cruel ravages in the part of the 
city crowded with the most costly treasures of foreign 
and domestic production. 

The flame and smoke were rising from a five-story 
building, and they soon leaped forth in fury through 
every aperture, and seized upon the adjoining buildings 
for their instant prey. And, spreading in all directions, 
the raging element leaped across the narrow streets, and 
obtained a tremendous advantage in the most compact 
and loftily built portion of the city. The buildings were 
filled with goods, silks, cloths, oils, chemicals, and other 
combustibles. There was nothing to interpose as a 
barrier to the progress of the flames but the arms of the 
brave firemen. And the weather was unparalleled in 
its severity. The wind vehemently urged the fire in the 
quarter toward which it was blowing, and an effort to 
check the power of the conflagration in that direction 
was entirely unavailing. Water was plenteously thrown 
upon it from the hydrants, by the engines ; but it was 
blown back, in a shower of hail, at the feet of the 
firemen, and appeared only to increase the fury of the 
destroyer. A great range of houses, opposite to where 
the fire began, in a triangular block from Pearl street, 
waved and waved in great sheets of flame, and they 


194 


Olf THE batteky; 


rolled on unrestrained by any possible human endeavor 
to stop them. As the huge volumes of smoke which 
occasionally enveloped the buildings, broke, and rolled 
up higher, it seemed like the vast wings of a visible 
destruction moving in the flight. All the long night 
the Are burned, and people bore their precious property, 
which they could rescue from the burning buildings, to 
another one, and stored it full. They thought that that 
one would be secure, and they spread wet blankets upon 
the windows and cornices exposed to the heat, and con- 
veyed hose along the roof. This building was a mag- 
nificent and beautiful edifice, elegant in its architecture, 
the pride of the city and of the country. And it was 
hoped that this would be preserved, and that the flames 
would not reach it; and that confidence was the occasion 
of piling the structure with the rescued merchandise. 
But the presumption of security was fallacious, and, as 
no headway was gained in checking the flames, they ap- 
proached hearer and closer to it, until, at length, before 
the disappointed persons, who had stored their goods 
within its walls, could remove them again to some other 
place, the fire communicated to it, and all the efforts 
put forth to save it were in vain. The flames picked at it 
slowly for a time, and played with the treasures it con- 
tained, until, at length, they burst forth from roof and 
dome, and the pall of ruin spread over its vast and 
beautiful form. The pyramids of flame rose one over 
another above it, in the black sky, until its beauty was 
transformed into a sublime and fearful object. That 
dome, so soon to fall, would bury so much of importance, 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


195 


so much of beauty. Before it covered beneath its ruined 
arches the new and beautiful statue of Hamilton, which 
was in the rotunda, a gallant effort to save it was made 
by a young officer of the navy and a few sailors; they 
succeeded in removing it from its pedestal, but the roof 
was now falling, and they were obliged by the terror- 
stricken beholders to seek their safety in flight. Its fate 
was to tower and gleam among the fires, which washed 
its base, and, when last seen, as though it cast a mourn- 
ful glance before it fell with a stately crash, and perished 
among the ruins. 

The post-office was destroyed; of the buildings on 
Pearl street, containing many fortunes, they were re- 
duced to cinders. Six hundred and seventy buildings 
are given as the number which were burned. But, 
when nothing else could be done, it was fought with its 
own weapon, and a line of buildings being blown up, 
retarded the onward progress of the flames. It was 
curious to notice the stanch resistance to the flames 
offered by an edifice here and there, until they all fell in 
a chaotic mass together. Many who went home from 
their places of business that evening, on the next morn- 
ing found themselves ruined in wealth. One person 
lost, in silks, six hundred thousand dollars, and another, 
in tea and other imported articles, hundreds of thou- 
sands more. 

The sailors, with that coolness which characterizes 
them, carried the kegs of powder hither and thither, 
wrapping them up in a pea-jacket, blanket, or anything 
which came handy, and then conveyed them to their 


196 


OIT THE battery; 


destination, into the houses which were to be sacrificed. 
And the cold was so intense a little distance from the 
bed of fire, that the poor firemen cut holes in blankets 
and stuck their heads through them, as impromptu 
cloaks; and, accoutered in this manner, the next day 
they dragged themselves and the fire-engines home. 
One company had collected the richest kinds of arti- 
ficial wreaths and flowers, which they picked from the 
wreck of matters scattered beneath their feet, and they 
decorated their hats, and the ropes and engine, which 
had thrown such showers of hail upon the consuming 
treasures. And on that day after the fire, a person was 
nearly at a loss to know where he was. Here, was a pile 
of corners of what had been four lofty buildings; there, 
a forlorn chimney ; still further on, a row of slanting 
bricks, holding up what had once been windows. And 
where the valuable treasures had been stored, nothing 
remained but the huge pillars, rent and torn. In these 
ill-favored heaps, these tottering stones, these crooked 
columns, and warped and bowing walls, where was the 
architectural pride of the few short hours before ? All 
gone — none of it left! After a long and critical investi- 
gation, it was decided that the fire originated in a burst- 
ing gas-pipe, and the ignition of the escaping gas by afire 
in a grate or stove. And the day after the fire was over, 
that one company, with their begrimmed faces and their 
gayly decorated equipments, their impromptu blanket- 
cloaks, making a wierd and fantastic procession, seemed 
to have come from the Plutonian shore. And they moved 
on, and silently half carried, half supported, their captain 


OK, mildked’s dishes. 


197 


into his house, and laid him upon his bed. And he was 
there many weeks, and ever after he was “the veteran 
fireman with only one good leg.” He had lost some 
buildings, and more goods, but did not lose in wealth, 
as some had done. 

When Mrs. Morton and her children heard of the 
sufferings of Alfy’s father, they hastened over to see him, 
and to condole with Alf. And one fact which gave 
them a subdued joy was, that almost the first service 
which the road their father had worked so hard to have, 
was to bring some fire-engines to help Ally’s father put 
out that terrible fire. Alfy watched his father’s sick bed 
like the good, kind boy he was; and, when he had re- 
covered his health again, Alfy continued to ponder upon 
those regions where fortunes were so easily made, and 
he started the project of going there himself. And 
some of the Moreland friends were entertaining similar 
purposes, and made a prospecting trip. Alfy, accord- 
ingly, purchased some government land, and with the 
party provided with horses, wagons, and all the required 
baggage, they set out. Some of the party were to stop 
in one State, and some were expecting to go on further. 
When he reached his “purchase,” it proved to be partly 
timbered land and partly a kind of rolling country, near 
a navigable river. They proposed to commence a town, 
and have it surveyed in accordance with a wilderness 
survey. Then — when they were ready — selecting a suit- 
able part of the land, they put down a stake, and placed 
the mariner’s compass upon it, as a starting-point, and 
the lines, as they extended beyond his land, could be 


198 


ON THE battery; 


followed out by others in accordance with their own 
methods; and, from the stake, they measured so much 
each way: First, thence north, running east, so many 
chains, so many links; thence east, running south, so 
many chains, so many links ; thence south, running west, 
so many chains, so many links ; thence west, running 
north, so many chains, so many links, to the stake and 
place of beginning ; and this was, of course, the south- 
east section, and was appropriated by Alf for himself. 
He said that it was like the description in Mrs. Drake’s 
will for the land, Bill Pounce was examining for corners, 
and so forth. The remaining sections were taken by 
others of the party, and subdivided by them. 

With a wise forethought for the time to come, they 
made the stake the centre of the town, and appropriated 
more than fifty feet running in each direction for the 
principal street; and on this broad avenue they built 
log houses, and named their town “Datour.” These 
log houses were notable in many ways — in one aspect, 
for not being very commodious, and, in another view, of 
being too commodious. For instance, when the folks 
were cooking dinner in them, it became necessary to 
have an observation of the heavens continually taken, 
and, if rain were coming, it was of the first importance 
to extinguish the fire, for, if that were not done, the 
water, coming down the chimney, threw the smoke and 
the coals into the room, endangering the edifice with 
confiagration, and the person with suffocation from the 
smoke ; and as it regarded the loft, that was sometimes 
reached by climbing a ladder upon the outside. When 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


199 


Alf was inquired of as to wliat they did with a half-cooked 
dinner, he said that they watched and only cooked in 
the cabin when it was fair weather. In this prosperous 
settlement, sometimes, the supplies of salt and other com- 
modities became exhausted, and it was necessary to pro- 
ceed to the nearest market town up the river to obtain 
a fresh supply for Alfs country store. One of the fam- 
ilies had built their domicile at a remote distance from 
the rest, quite near the timber; and on a certain day, 
although the salt keg was not empty, still something 
else was gone. And Mr. Lewis, the old acquaintance 
who joined Joseph Eolfe on a previous occasion, left his 
wife, the Lucy of that time, alone in their log mansion 
until he should return from his trip with Alf. 

It was clear and cold winter weather, and a hard snow 
covered the ground. The hay-rick was out of doors, of 
course; wagons, and so forth, were under a covered 
roof of bark, twigs, logs and other substances to pro- 
tect them from the storms; and Lucy was all alone. 
She sat late, attending to some work she wished to 
finish, and finally retired to her bed, and slept without 
alarm. She was trying to habituate herself to her own 
protection with the shot-gun which hung upon the wall. 
She was violently awakened, at last, by a sort of batter- 
ing-ram upon the walls of her log house ; it came from 
every corner. First, Bang ! slam ! upon the front of the 
house, and, immediately. Jam! jam! upon the sides and 
back of the log cabin ; and not only that, the whole air 
was full of the sounds of smashing and crashing snow, 
added to which, every once in a while, there was a violent 


200 


ON THE battery; 


rushing sound, accompanied by a kind of grunt. She 
was too much surprised at the volume and kind of noise, 
to stir foot or hand, and kept quiet to find if it were 
savage, man or brute — and somehow it'secmed like brute 
— but as long as they let the roof alone, she waited. 

At length, she silently arose, and took down the shot- 
gun, and placed herself close by the chimney, to execute 
whatever creature might descend its capacious walls. 
The night was very dark, so she made no efibrt to pierce 
the gloom; and, for more than a mortal hour, she kept 
her station. The banging and jamming at last subsided, 
and the noise of the crunching of the snow seemed to 
be receding, also; and, eventually, quiet once more 
reigned upon the scene. Her nerve was firm; she was a 
genuine backwood’s woman, and she fell into all man- 
ner of conjecture regarding the whole occurrence, and 
what it meant. 

Tediously, very tediously, the morning approached. 
It was there, but her husband came not ; he had been 
detained longer than he expected, and she unbarred the 
door and looked out. The snow, for a long distance in 
every direction, was trampled with the marks of hoofs; 
so she concluded that she would go out and survey the 
scene still further. She looked around to see what was 
missing; there was nothing gone but the salt-keg, and 
she found that on the other side of the log-house, lying 
in separate staves, and the head stove to pieces, and the 
strong wooden hoops were scattered on every hand; and, 
from this inspection, she comprehended and took in 
the case immediately : the cattle from the neighboring 


OR, MILDRED’S DISHES. 


201 


places had all collected there to whet their appetites 
with the salt in the keg. It had been an oversight leav- 
ing it out of doors, and the cattle quickly banged it 
backwards and forwards against the house until it went 
to pieces, and they ate what they wanted of it, and then 
returned from their foraging. It was probably as disa- 
greeable, dismal and harmless a seige as a poor, lone per- 
son ever sustained. 

Mr. Lewis, when he returned, and she related the par- 
ticulars to him, blamed himself for her needless alarm. 
And he cut in wood a bovine head licking salt, and 
placed it upon the front door — and when their new house 
was built he removed it, and placed it upon the new 
dwelling — to perpetuate the story; where the curious 
will still find it, if the house remains unchanged. But 
that broad avenue has long been the admiration of the 
passer through the place. More than one hundred feet 
m width, with double rows of trees on each side and the 
houses set back from the road, it presents the elegant 
features of a city of taste and cultivation, and one where 
real comfort exists. The primitive structure, the log- 
house store, was the centre of influence in the place, 
and, like the Cave of Adullam, if anybody was discon- 
tented, was sorry, was miserable in any way, they gath- 
ered beneath its friendly roof ; and Alfy had away of be- 
guiling them for the time of their trouble, and they went 
out better and stronger than when they came beneath 
it. But it was a log-house store no longer now, and he 
talked of moving on. The western sky was all aglow 
for him, and, as some of his brothers seemed to tire of 


202 


OJ^ THE battery; 


their small horizon, he bade them come over his way, 
for he still adhered to his youthful expression : If your 
stock is low, come over here.” And several times, there 
had been with him a person who came to and fro, carry- 
ing a mysterious satchel. He went away with the 
satchel empty, extending his trip to the Eastern States, 
and returning with it full. And wherever he went, 
soon following that event, the people would call upon 
each other with the definite object of stating, as a piece 
of news, that the old-home trees were sprouting up 
upon their farms, and in their gardens, and in Ally’s 
place a thriving orchard was growing, all the work of 
this man’s planting. There was a wild pear-tree, it 
might be in one corner, like the old Greenfield tree, but 
in the other corners and lines, fine apple-trees flourished. 
And the people wondered exceedingly at the tireless 
energy of the man with the mysterious satchel. But 
what a disinterested benefactor of his species was the 
person with the singular title of the Apple-Seed man, 
who laid the people of these places under infinite obliga- 
tions to him. 

How little is realized of the benefits which have 
been conferred upon the human race, by the occupation 
of a mind with something, perhaps considered very 
trifling by even one’s friends, but in the steadfast, un- 
bending and persistent doing of which, a lasting benefit 
to many has been the result. 

To portray all of the characters who stayed with Alf, or 
only tarried a while as they passed through the place, 
before he, himself, removed from Datour to another set- 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


203 


tlement, would require more details tlian it is necessary 
to give. Orators upon all topics favored the residents with 
their views and their wishes, what they imagined, and 
what they hoped. Political measures, reforms, and 
the wide field of discoveries, were discussed from divers 
points. These scenes and episodes all contributed 
to the ever varying tableaux. Alf, and his friend of 
past days, David Warner, .engaged in a brisk corre- 
spondence, as lively as the distance between them would 
permit. And David urged him to exert himself to make 
the place a temperance town. And, accordingly, to ad- 
vance the interest in that subject, and to create a senti- 
ment which would influence the minds of the people, 
Alf secured a meeting of those favorable, and they 
agreed to pledge themselves against drinking intoxica- 
ting liquors, and to persuade all those whom they could 
to abandon the same. They framed this resolution, and 
hung it in a frame upon the wall ; and any one who wished 
to join the T-totalers, placed a card to that effect upon 
the frame. And in process of time, this frame became 
garnished with good names. The apple-seed man 
placed his name there ; and the tailors, the carpenters, 
the blacksmiths, and the farmers of the place were rep- 
resented. And, to bring out more fully the merits of 
their brief and simple document, Alf wrote and framed, 
for the opposite side of the room, a strong contrast to 
their paper ; and if any one did not like his, he referred 
them to that one, if its conditions pleased them better. 
It ran in manner following : 

Articles of Agreement, made this twelfth day of April, 


204 


OK THE battery; 


Anno Domini, one thousand seven hundred and eighty- 
seven, by and between George Washington, Esq., of the 
Parish of Truro, in the County of Fairfax, State of Vir- 
ginia, on the one part, and Philip Eater, gardener, on 
the other ; 

Witness, That the said Philip Eater, for, and in con- 
sideration of the covenants hereinhereafter mentioned, 
doth promise and agree to serve the said George Wash- 
ington for the term of one year, as a gardener, and that 
he will, during said time, conduct himself soberly, dili- 
gently and honestly — that he will faithfully and indus- 
triously perform all and every part of his duty as a gar- 
dener, to the best of his knowledge and abilities, and that 
he will not, at any time, suffer himself to be disguised 
with liquor, except on the times hereafter mentioned. 

“ In consideration of these things being well and truly 
performed on the part of the said Philip Eater, the said 
George Washington doth agree to allow him (the said 
Philip) the same kind and quality of provisions as he has 
heretofore had ; and likewise, annually, a decent suit of 
clothes, befitting a man in his station, to consist of a 
coat, vest, and breeches ; a working-jacket and breeches, 
of homespun, besides; two white shirts; three checked 
do.; two linen pocket-handkerchiefs; two pairs linen 
overalls ; as many pair of shoes as are actually necessary 
for him ; four dollars at Christmas, with which he may 
he drunk four days and four nights; two dollars at 
Easter, to effect the same purjiose ; two dollars at Whit- 
suntide, to he drunk two days, a dram in the morning 
and a drink of grog at dinner at noon^^ ^ 


OR, Mildred’s dishes. 


205 


This was signed by the parties making the agreement, 
and witnessed by George A. AVashington, and Tobias 
Lear. 

But this contract, which may be regarded more as 
a transcript of the times, and not what he would arrange 
himself, is offset by a letter to one of his overseers, and 
reveals what his true sentiments were, notwithstanding 
so lugubrious an exhibit as this contract makes. He 
writes : I shall not close this letter without exhorting 
you to refrain from spirituous liquors; they will prove 
your ruin if you do not. Consider how little a drunken 
man differs from a beast : the latter is not endowed 
with reason ; the former deprives himself of it, and, 
when that is the case, acts like a brute, annoying and 
disturbing every one around him. Nor is this all, nor, 
as it respects himself, the worst of it. By degrees it ren- 
ders a person feeble, and not only unable to serve 
others, but to help himself; and being an act of his 
own, he falls from a state of usefulness into contempt, 
and at length suffers, if not perishes, in penury and 
want. Don’t let this be your case. Show yourself more 
of a man and a Christian than to yield to so intolerable 
a vice, which cannot, I am certain (to the greatest lover 
of liquor), give more pleasure to sip in the poison (for it 
is no better), than the consequence of it in bad behavior 
at the moment, and the more serious evils produced by 
it afterwards, must give pain.” 

After perusing this remarkable document (the con- 
tract), it is quite safe to say that it maintained its 
‘‘ancient solitary reign ” without any signature, other 


206 


ON- THE battery; 


than that of the said Philip Bater, the submissive victim 
of the rum-bottle. The various champions of the 
American Temperance Keformation, gave the town of 
Datour the benefit of their own experiences, as they had 
been when they were steeped in liquor. And some of 
the orators spoke with overpowering effect. The plain 
man, of good common-sense and sincerity, warming 
with his subject, would carry his audP'jrs sympatheti- 
cally along with him, until they were ready to do and 
dare anything which would release the bound from 
their thraldom. He wrote his friend David upon an 
occasion, that now he had found the vessel in which, if 
the drunkards would only pour their liquor, it would 
fail to harm them. A family emigrating to the far 
regions beyond, and stopping at his place to refresh 
themselves, had told him of this, the greatest invention 
of the age. And he had procured one and kept it 
beside the pledge, and he represented that if the drink- 
ers could not summon resolution to enroll their names 
with the reformed, he urged them to at least supply 
themselves with a fac-simile of his own rum-bottle. 
He bothered David so much with guessing what it was 
like, and having to describe it more fully in each suc- 
ceeding letter to him, that David had no hope of ever 
ascertaining what it resembled. When he had bothered 
him long enough, he told him that a person engaged, 
as he was, in fiishioning clay, should realize that some- 
times the bottom of a jug could be broken out.” The 
people who told him about it, had their wagons loaded 
with goods packed away in them, and on one of the 


OK, MILDRED^S DISHES. 


207 


wagons hung a huge jifg with the bottom knocked out. 
And when he asked them what the useless object 
was for, he replied: “ Why, that is my Taylor jug.’’ 

“A what? ” 

“A Taylor jug.” 

And what is that ? ” continued Alf. 

The owner '^f the jug replied: “ It is a device of 
General Z. ^ylor. He told a soldier in his army to 
always carry his whiskey-jug with a hole in the bottom 
of it. That soldier was my son,” he continued, and 
ever since I heard of the advice which he gave our 
James, I have carried my own rum- jug, the way it is 
now ; and it is the best device that I have ever met with 
for that purpose.” 

It is needless to add that, as a passing tribute to the 
pledge upon the wall, these people who owned the things 
upon the wagon added their names, while Alf smashed 
off a corner of an earthen jug, and placed it in a conve- 
nient spot for anyone to throw his contribution of whiskey 
from wherever he obtained it into the Temperance Jug. 

The last time the brother and sisters heard from 
Aunt Sy, it was a message through Julia H — , Alfy’s 
sister, to them, and was. “Tell dem chilJrun dat old 
Syley busy now dis minit, at some work, she Tvould 
help dem with, if she was dar with dem; it is dis, 
^Ta-hu-te-ya^ ” 

When they received this communication they were 
somewhat nonplussed, for the word had slipped from 
their vocabulary ; but, recollecting some records which 
she had given them, they consulted them again, and 


208 


01^ THE BATTERY. 


found that it was Cherokee, and meant, in English, 
^‘I am washing the dishes.” 

The straits alluded to by Sir F. D — ’s letter, were passed 
through a short time before he entered them by Captain 
Magellen, and now bear his name. He was the first one to 
circumnavigate the globe, and thirty-nine years from the 
entrance of them by Sir F. D — , in 1616, another navigator 
guided his ship on the outside of this land, so graphically 
described byNed’s ancestor, toward a cape which extended 
to the southern point of Admiral Hermite’s Islands, and 
then sailed around to the north again, going around the 
“fire-land,” avoiding the straits, and discovering that he 
had doubled a cape, instead of sailing through the straits, 
as had been done formerly. And this navigator, Jacob 
le Maire, named this point of land Cape Horn, after the 
town of Hoern, in North Holland. ' And this dreary 
land, frequented by penguins, seals and fogs, where 
there is no fuel to make a fire to keep human beings 
warm, has received the name which Drake applied to it, 
but in another language, “Terra del Fuego” — the land 
of fire. These particulars are interesting in this narra- 
tive, or any other one, for the mariner loves the sea, the ex- 
plorer loves the mountains and the valleys on the earth. 
The Mussulman has his pilgrimage to the grave of his 
prophet; the Jew cherishes Jerusalem; the Americans 
have their shrines — the tombs of illustrious dead, the 
temples of commerce and trade. The vessels go out, 
and they come back to the metropolis; the tide of hu- 
manity sweeps along, and we pause at these shrines to 
take another look, before we vanish with it, 




% 

f 





I I 

t 

f 


( 





■ 


tr . 


1 ' 



\ 


t 


4 





I 

t 


• • 



1 


« . 




V 




-1 












L f B 



' 5 ^ •»• 

'>t- *'ty <'ty 

■ - .* -w /“- »••• >“’•** 

• '5 V ‘^f’' .<-^ ^o >^* o’’ 

^ . "v 


o V 







^ 0 


o 


•% 'o . . * * A ^ * 

'"• ° ^-f> 








- '* <!> °'^ 

%. <.^ c'o 

v' c 

° : 

<° «?■'’ °o ‘ 

'** <L'^ d^ • ^ *4 

‘ a'^^ % '■>•*' .< 

. 0 ^ c*^'*-* ^ 

' o'^ :MI^^\ •>'_ .-i 



^ P-K 

L^ y<^ 


o M O 



O H O 





^ . 





^ . 0 ' 'O . '*'* ./\ 


4 * ^ * 



• • 



• iy 

* A o. 

♦ bki.^ ^ 

^r cv ^ 

. , 1 * ^V o * 






< o 

L> ^ 


tf ■ 


V ^ ' 




D Kl 0 


^ # 1 • 



vP ^ • 


0" f''_V0^ 











C, ijk * 

4, ^ 'y ^ 

-#“ c° .-Ul’ °o J.'i'' .«•«. <s> 

" ■a'^ '■ 

o' • ^ K r 

o xP *7% *■ 

_ rf> "^VIVVCS^ ^ ^ '• 

V,/ ' 

vp 9 • 

_ . / ', 

A V ^ > -U 

c ® " ® ♦ c^ . t » . ^ 

O *1-5^ «• /-U C* ■♦ O 




